


The Crack in the Bell

by SecretNerdPrincess



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst with a Happy Ending, Doomed Timelines, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Hamilton - Freeform, Hamilton Lyrics, Hamilton References, Happy Ending, I actually promise a happy ending, Like a real one, Sexy Times, Time Travel, garcy, just this once, not a sliver of one, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 25,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27166345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretNerdPrincess/pseuds/SecretNerdPrincess
Summary: This started out as a loosely connected group of ficlets: The four times Lucy saved Flynn and the one time she didn't.Then I watched Hamilton.How many times can Lucy save Flynn without losing herself? What happens when Flynn can't let Lucy die? How does the American Revolution fit into any of it? This is my love letter to America during the absolute sh*t show of 2020.Chapter titles are blatantly stolen from the musical Hamilton by Lin-Manuel Miranda.
Relationships: Denise Christopher/Michelle Christopher, Garcia Flynn & Lucy Preston, Garcia Flynn/Lorena Flynn, Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston, Jessica Logan/Wyatt Logan, Rufus Carlin & Jiya, Rufus Carlin/Jiya
Comments: 86
Kudos: 25





	1. The Room Where It Happened

~*~  
 _The Room Where It Happened_

_December 24, 2018_

I stare at the autopsy report until the words blur, until the photo of Flynn sharpens into painful focus highlighting the pallor of his skin. Someone says something about a gold star and I can’t find it in myself to give even the tiniest shit about an empty, useless honor. 

“What have we done?” 

No one is listening. 

Mason toasts the man who’ll never swagger into the room again and I choke on the words battering for release. I want to scream into the echoing void, but I stay silent, frozen on the steps of the Lifeboat. 

“We just let him sacrifice himself.” 

I stand, walking in a daze through the kitchen. Jiya moves to stop me, but the anger blazing from my glare warns her off. 

“Should somebody, um?” my friend starts to ask, but I continue on. Stopping in front of his door. Pushing inside. 

I slip his leather jacket over my thin t-shirt. His scent still clings to the well-worn fabric and I remember the feel of his strength as I cried myself to sleep in his arms. The half-empty bottle still sits on the shelf, waiting for an impossible tomorrow. 

I refuse to collapse, pulling on shoes and tucking my journal into the inside pocket of Flynn’s jacket. I strap my weapon to my hip. Saying goodbye forever. Closing his door. 

The team is still gathered around the table. They turn as I enter the room, unsure if they should approach.

“Give it to me,” I address Agent Christopher. 

She takes a tentative step forward. “Give you what?” 

“The zip drive I tried to give to Flynn so that he could save his family.” 

“Lucy, you know—”

I don’t hesitate, pulling my gun just like Flynn trained me; I have no patience for the lies. “I know you made a copy.” 

Wyatt pulls his weapon in response, but the older woman waves him off. “I can’t just hand that over to you.”

“Yes.” The sound of my cocking weapon echoes off the walls of the bunker. “You can.”

“Think about the consequences.” Denise tries to reason with me, but the Lucy who might’ve cared has ceded control. 

I shrug. “Jiya and Rufus will meet through Mason Industries and I have the other zip drive containing all the information we passed to you in 1981. I can either ensure that you still receive the information that led you to Michelle. Or not.” I sight down the barrel, breathing evenly. “It’s your choice, but I’m going to save him either way.” 

She must see something in my eyes because Denise nods in surrender. “Jiya. Prep the Lifeboat for a jump. I’ll get it.” 

I relax a fraction, but keep my gun level. “Tell Mason where it is. He can get it.” 

“Shoebox. Top shelf of the linen closet.” 

Mason rushes out of the room, anxious to be away from the tense standoff between friends. Once he returns with the zip drive and hands it over, I keep my eyes trained on the team as I walk backwards to the time machine. I won’t risk any of them stopping me. 

I don’t breathe until the door closes and I plug the drive into the console. An eternity passes while I wait. The search ends and I open the file, scanning over the pages until I find what I’m looking for: the name of the man who put the hit out on Garcia Flynn and his family.

***

_July 4 th, 1982  
Stanford, California_

I sit in the stolen rust colored Ford Pinto staring at the white, two-story home, music from the backyard filtering in through the open window. It is far too hot for Flynn’s leather, but I don’t care, I want something of his to keep with me. I take the key out of the ignition and open the car door; reminding myself that the longer I sit there, the longer he stays dead. 

Crossing over the perfectly manicured yard, I head towards the sound of music and conversation. I never expected a party, but it makes no difference. My father is home and that is all that matters. Originally I planned to kill the person who put out the hit, but I can’t kill my father, no matter how much I wish I could. 

Besides, someone else would just step into the vacuum. It won’t ensure that Lorena and Iris live. That Flynn lives. He deserves a happy ending. 

I stop in front of the man who gave me life. “Benjamin Cahill?” 

“To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” A fake smile spreads across his face.

“You’ll want to have this conversation inside the house.” My smile mimics his as I pull back Flynn’s leather just enough to show him my weapon.

His smile vanishes. “And why shouldn’t I just have you arrested and thrown in jail? If you know who I am, you know the power I command.” 

I lean close enough that I can’t be heard over the band. “I’m here about Rittenhouse.” 

The sound of breaking glass silences his response. I turn to see my mother gawking at me, her hand frozen halfway to her mouth. I’d known there was a risk that Carol would be here as well given the time frame, but that knowledge doesn’t stop the pain from flooding my system at seeing my mother standing in front of me, young, vibrant, and so very alive. 

“Carol?” Benjamin’s brow creases in concern that quickly erases.

She ignores him, crossing to me. She is so close I could touch her, but I keep my hands at my side. “Who are you?” 

“As I was saying,” I begin, turning to my father and swallowing the tears that rush to my eyes as the memory of her death washes over me, “I’m certain you’d rather have this conversation inside.”

My father lays a possessive hand on my mother’s back and I want to turn away. “Carol, wait here. I’ll return shortly.” 

“She’ll want to be part of this conversation as well,” I insist, wanting as much time with her. When I return she will not be the mother who died in San Francisco.

He sweeps out an arm, gesturing towards the ornate French doors that lead inside.

“After you.” I refuse to show this man my back, father or no. He acquiesces and I follow, steeling my spine for what I must do. 

We end in the same living room where we’d talked for the first time we met, where he tried to convince me of the benefits of Rittenhouse. The return seems fitting given the coming conversation.

My father moves to the sideboard, pouring a drink from a crystal decanter. “Would you care for one?” I decline and he turns back to the cart, setting aside his glass and reaching for a metal shaker. “Then would you care to enlighten me as to your presence in my home? As you might have noticed, I am entertaining and thus quite unavailable.” 

I drop all pretense of civility, letting go of the team and everything that came before this moment. Letting go of the life I might have had. I will save him and pay whatever price the universe demands. “My name is Lucy Preston.” 

Carol narrows her eyes from her place at the mantle. “If you’re here to tell me that I have a long lost sibling I am unaware of, you may escort yourself out. Benja—” she breaks off, correcting herself and shooting a quick glance at him, “Professor Cahill will have nothing to do with such a scheme.” 

I ignore her slip-up. “You reacted when you saw me for the first time. I look familiar to you. You feel like you know me though we’ve never met. Yes?”

My father glances over his shoulder at me, a discerning look in his eyes as he crosses to hand Carol a martini.

The beautiful, young blond adjusts a flower-filled vase, affecting a dismissive air. “I’ll confess you bare a passing resemblance to a cousin.”

 _A mother knows, Lucy_ , her frequent answer to any future defiance I might consider, echoes in my mind. “I am your daughter.” 

“We’re nearly the same age!” My mother covers her shock with a sip. “Besides, I am quite certain I’d remember having a child.” 

“The two of you,” I indicate my parents who are both staring at me with identical looks of disbelief, "are involved in a clandestine relationship and in a few months, you will become pregnant with a daughter. A daughter, coincidentally, of two distinguished Rittenhouse families.”

“This is absolutely ridiculous.” My father ends the conversation, gathering my mother to leave. 

“I know all about Nicholas Keynes and his plans for a brave new world.” They halt midway to the door. “Rittenhouse will fail, but I can help you change that.” 

Cocking a hip against the white leather couch, Benjamin Cahill gives me an icy smile. “Say I believe you’re my future daughter, which I don’t, but say I do. How can you help us?” 

_Am I really prepared to betray everything we fought for?_

“Because in the future I am part of a team that is fighting against you, but I can tell you how to stop that from happening at all.” The feel of Flynn cradling me in the Philadelphia alley overwhelms my senses and I know I will sacrifice anything, knowing that in the end, the mission will demand everything. “I know what sets it all in motion.” 

“Is that so?” My father sips his bourbon and eyes me over the rim of the glass. 

“It is.” I do not blink. Another trick Flynn taught me. 

“And why would I trust someone who openly admits to being my enemy? In the future,” he adds with a smirk.

“Because you never wanted us to be enemies. I am your daughter, whether you believe it or not, and I will give you what you both desire. An heir to willingly step into the role you designed for her.” 

“A daughter of our families would be powerful,” my mother comments as she finishes her martini and sets the glass on the mantle.

“Indeed.” Benjamin stands, collecting the empty drink and moving to refill it. Ice cubes clink in the metal shaker, disturbing the otherwise silence. “And what would you want in return?” 

The only thing that matters. “In 2014, you will discover a man named Garcia Flynn digging into Rittenhouse. I want you to leave him and his family alone. ” 

“So I ignore this man’s infiltration and what? Just let him go? If you know me, you know I can’t do that.”

“If you don’t, my team will take down Rittenhouse for good and I will ensure that you rot in jail for the rest of your miserable life.” I don’t know how we would do that, but I would find a way. Without Flynn I have nothing to live for and everything to die for.

“You can’t honestly believe this woman?” my mother asks from her station at the mantle, but there is doubt in her tone. A part of her believes me. 

“Hush now,” he chides, absently stirring the cocktail. “When will I ever have this chance again?” Placing the lid on the shaker, he turns back to me. “You say all I have to do is leave this man alone? If I do that, Rittenhouse survives and I get my daughter ruling by my side as I’ve always wanted?” he asks, his sarcasm thick as he strains the vodka into the chilled glass. “It can’t be that easy. What’s the catch?” 

“The man, he’s dead in my timeline.” I can barely speak the words. 

“And I suppose I am responsible for his death?” I nod. It’s all I’m capable of at this point. I’m afraid I’ll crack and Flynn will remain dead. Forever. “Are you sure he’s worth it? Seems a bit excessive to sacrifice so much for one man.”

“I suppose,” I admit, burying my guilt at the betrayal of my friends among the heartbreak. I will still see that Rittenhouse falls; I just won’t have to lose everyone along the way. If I have to die in the end, I’ll die knowing I reunited Flynn with his family. It’s the least I can do. “He’s worth it.” 

If he stood by my side now, he’d never let me make the deal. But Garcia Flynn isn’t here to stop me. 

“So how does this work? Am I just supposed to trust that if I hold up my end of the bargain, you will as well? Or do we start work immediately?” My father is humoring me and a cold sweat breaks out on my skin at the worry that I’ll fail again. He finishes his bourbon and leaves the glass on a side table for a servant to clean up later. “I think I’ve been entertained enough for one day. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have guests to attend to.” 

“You don’t believe me?” I’m not sure how much longer I can hold it together. 

“I don’t believe you,” my father responds, curt, as if the conversation is already over, and stands. “If you have nothing further to offer…” 

There’s only ever been one way out. One way to save him. I’ve known it the entire time even if I refused to admit it.

“What if I could give you proof?” My voice comes out a croaking whisper.

I have my journal and the zip drive. Both are dangerous under Rittenhouse control. Either I hand them a road map on what they did wrong the first time around or I relinquish my only leverage. 

My only other option is to give up on Flynn and that’s not an option. 

“Then I’d say you’ve bought yourself another minute.” 

_He wouldn’t want me to do this,_ I think slipping my hand into my pocket. 

“You will have to be patient, but one day you will see that I’ve told you the truth and you will honor this bargain.” I pull the zip drive out, my fingers curling around it. 

Flynn would never forgive me, but he would never have to know. He’d have Lorena and Iris back.

Even as my heart breaks, I extend my hand and open my fingers. “Agreed?” 

Benjamin Cahill takes the zip drive. “Agreed.” 


	2. Something They Can Never Take Away

_~*~  
_ _Something They Can Never Take Away_

_July 9, 1776_   
_New York City_   
_City Hall Park_

_The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America…_

Excitement permeates the air as General George Washington stands at the head of his troops. His voice silences the murmurs, booming over the assembled crowd gathered in the Commons.

_When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another…_

The throng bursts into applause as the troops keep a motionless vigil listening to their Commander. I am all but invisible as I slide through the masses, searching the crowd for the man I’ve come to find. The citizens around me are too caught up in the event to notice as I pass. Their eyes focused on the young, commanding General who would lead them to victory over the monarchy. They will be free and I am insignificant to that cause.

So they think.

_We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal…_

I allow myself one minute to bask in the intoxicating energy surrounding me, the hope of a glorious future for America, one that slips away even as the people cheer its birth. 

_That they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness._

There. To the right of Washington. I see him. Alexander Hamilton, Captain of the New York Artillery Company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> July 9, 1776 is the day that George Washington had the newly signed Declaration of Independence read to his troops in NYC. I fudged it a bit and had Washington read it himself because Hamilton made me a huge Washington stan. #SorryNotSorry He did have Jefferson make sure he sent a copy the document to Washington as soon as possible because he wanted to make sure all the troops heard it. 
> 
> https://www.history.com/news/much-in-little-the-revolutionary-memories-of-a-new-york-park


	3. The World Turned Upside Down

~*~  
 _The World Turned Upside Down_

_September 28, 1824_   
_Philadelphia, PA_

Lucy’s hand in mine. 

I know we will persevere. 

We will save the Marquis de Lafayette. No doubt exists in my mind as we follow, mirroring his movements as he is carried in a horse drawn carriage at the head of a six thousand man military escort through the triumphal arches that line the streets of Philadelphia. We believe Rittenhouse wants to kill him at the parade hailing America’s favorite Frenchman for the hero that he is. 

We will save him. 

Because that’s what we do. Lucy and Flynn. Throughout time and history. We save those we can and mourn the ones we can’t. There is only so much we can do without playing God. 

“Flynn?” Lucy calls my name and I turn. She is lost in thought, sorting through knowledge while placing whatever new information has occurred to her in order. “Why Lafayette? Why now?” 

I scan the crowd, listening, but alert to any danger. I’ve learned to follow her instincts. “What do you mean?” 

She leans into me, creating a small circle of privacy between us. “I mean, he’s already left his mark on history. Why kill him now?” 

“Maybe they’re trying to create chaos? Kill a beloved figure in front of his adoring fans?” I’m trying to unravel the possibilities, but assassinating Lafayette would only skyrocket him to martyrdom. “To what end? What would that accomplish?” 

I bend to press my lips to hers, uneasy, needing the reassurance of her touch. It is new and frightening, but I belong here. At her side, among the dust and the murmuring crowd, protecting her. I’ve lost so much and I’m terrified. She knows what I’ve done, but never judges me for any of it. Somehow she understands. 

I am broken and she is still kissing me. 

A roar erupts from the crowd. 

They are not cheering the fact that I am kissing Lucy Preston, but it feels like it.

In reality, Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de La Fayette, friend to revolutionaries and kings alike; the man who rode to Washington’s rescue at the Battle of Brandywine; who made allies of the French with no more demands on America than friendship, is waving at them as he climbs the steps of the stage erected in front of Independence Hall. A complicated character to be sure, but no one could argue his influence on our young country. 

Apparently, I’ve picked up a few things loving Lucy Preston. 

We sidle through the crowd, mounting the stairs, staying close to America’s last living Revolutionary General. 

I notice a young man in a plain grey suit at the top of the stands opposite. I let go of Lucy’s hand, moving closer to Lafayette. Among a sea of smiles, the young man is focused, intent. 

The Liberty Bell tolls out above us. 

He raises a rifle. 

The bell clangs insistent, reverberating through my bones. I am too far to stop him. My only hope is to get Lafayette to safety inside Independence Hall.

_Why kill him now?_

I remember her question an instant too late. 

Lucy is two steps behind me. That is what I’ll remember. So close I could’ve saved her.

The bell rings one last time and the brittle metal cracks as the young man fires. Not at Lafayette. I realize too late Rittenhouse never meant to kill the Revolutionary General. 

_Not again._

Lucy crumples to the stage and chaos erupts. The screams of the crowd fade away to nothing. My vision narrows to the woman bleeding out in my arms. 

_Not again._

I am begging her to live and she pleads with me to stay with Lafayette, to protect him. As if I could leave her as a doctor kneels in front of us, his capable hands opening the black bag at his side. He retrieves a clean white cloth that soon turns red.

I am nothing in the face of this moment. Remembering Lorena. Iris.

_Not again._

The middle-aged doctor with kind eyes shakes his head and I know she is gone, but I will not accept that truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Marquis de Lafayette really was a huge figure in the American Revolution. When Lin-Manuel described him as America's "favorite fighting Frenchman," he wasn't exaggerating. The country literally threw a series of parades all over the country. For the Philly parade the city really did erect a dozen triumphal arches through the city. There is one theory that the Liberty Bell cracked during the parade, which is freaking cool. There is another theory that it cracked during the funeral for Supreme Court Justice John Marshall in 1846. I just happen to like Lafayette better. 
> 
> https://www.newenglandhistoricalsociety.com/lafayette-returns-america/  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lafayette_Welcoming_Parade_of_1824_(Philadelphia)  
> https://www.history.com/news/why-is-the-liberty-bell-cracked


	4. Burn

~*~  
 _Burn_

_December 24, 2018_

“What do you mean Flynn is dead?” 

Jiya took a tentative step towards Lucy. “Rittenhouse planted a bomb meant to take out Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Lucretia Mott.” 

“Yes. The Bombing of Seneca Falls. It failed. Why are you telling me things I already know?” 

Jiya slipped her hands into her friend’s. “It failed because of Flynn. He saved their lives.” 

“No.” Lucy pulled her hands free. 

“Lucy—” Agent Christopher tried to block her from approaching the Lifeboat. 

The brunette shoved past her. “No. Flynn is not dead.” 

Rufus took a backwards step out of the time machine and Wyatt followed, carrying Garcia Flynn’s body between them. 

Lucy whirled on her superior officer. “This is your fault. If I had been there…” 

“If you had been there,” Jiya stepped between the two women, “you would’ve died as well.” 

“You don’t know that. My fever’s gone and the stitches fell out two days ago. I was fine.”

Denise spoke without emotion. “Yes you were.” 

“And now he’s—” Lucy leveled a glare at the older woman. “What did you say?” 

“You were fine and I knew it.” 

Lucy’s blood froze in her veins and her next question came out icy. “What else did you know, Agent Christopher?” 

To her credit, the woman didn’t look away when she answered. “If you had gone with the team, you would have died as well. Jiya stumbled upon a newspaper article written in the aftermath where the two of you were hailed as unnamed heroes.” 

Bile rose in her throat. “That doesn’t prove anything. It could’ve been anybody.” 

“There was a picture taken in the minutes before the bombing. According to the article, the unnamed woman stayed behind with her husband, refusing to leave his side.” Denise related the facts, shoving aside emotion. “You were superfluous to the situation. Flynn, however, was not.” 

“You let him die.” Lucy’s fingers tightened into a fist. 

“It was his choice.”

Anger raged through her system. “You gave him a suicide mission.” 

Lucy Preston snapped. She spun around, punched Wyatt in the jaw and snatched his weapon in the moment of shock that followed. 

She pointed it at Denise, who realized that with one wrong move the historian would definitely shoot. “I’m going to fix this.” 

Jiya tried to reason with her, “Lucy, think about this. The only way to save Flynn is to let those two women die.” 

“I don’t care.” 

And she didn’t. Let the entire world burn. What did it matter without Flynn’s smile in it? She took two steps towards the Lifeboat, keeping the gun trained on Denise. 

Rufus turned to stop her. “This isn’t you.” 

“It is now.” 

She fired twice, one bullet for Agent Christopher’s leg and the second for Wyatt’s shoulder. Flynn had trained her well. In the chaos that ensued, she bolted up the stairs and into the time machine, closed the door, and programmed the coordinates into the navigation system. 

***

Lucy charged through the stifling, crowded streets, mindless of the stares at her decidedly un-nineteenth century clothing. She knew she looked like a madwoman in her holey t-shirt and cut off sweats, but nothing mattered, nothing but getting to Flynn. 

A horse reared up when she ventured too close and she kept running, dust choking her. By the time the Wesleyan Chapel came into view, she was gasping for breath and drenched in sweat. She saved him once, she would do it again, the universe be damned. 

She refused to lose him. 

Slowing her pace, Lucy edged around to the back of the Chapel and thanked heavens for small favors when she found a string of laundry and grabbed a simple, brown cotton dress hanging on the line, tugging it over her head. She slipped in the backdoor and found herself in a small kitchen. Following the sound of a muffled speech, she passed through a doorway into a hallway that paralleled the long meeting room on her right. 

She opened the first door she came to and slid into the right corner of the gathering, just out of view of the small stage, scouring the room for Flynn. Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Lucretia Mott sat in the first row of pews, listening to the speaker, no one she recognized. Lucy’s eyes roamed over the assembly finding Jiya and Rufus first. Jiya gave her a look of understanding resignation. She found Wyatt glaring at her from the opposite corner of the room. 

“What are you doing here?” Flynn bit out from behind her. 

Somehow she kept herself from hurling her body against his in relief. “You know exactly what I’m doing here. We don’t have time for this argument.”

“We have no idea who the bomber is and you know I don’t find them in time.” He turned and gripped her shoulders, their faces inches apart. “You can’t be here.” 

“You don’t get a choice this time. I can’t leave you, Flynn.” 

He bent down, his words a whisper across her lips, “Lucy, I love you. I wanted—” His words failed him and he captured her lips in a quiet kiss.

“I love you, Garcia Flynn.”

A young man in a plain grey suit rose from his seat and began to walk up the aisle towards the makeshift stage. 


	5. Who Lives

~*~  
 _Who Lives_

_I can’t see through my tears tonight as I scribble down the words that pour out of me. I chase the fleeting images leading me down the winding pathways until I am lost and grasping at ghosts. Haunted by dreams that bleed into reality._

_I feel like I’m losing my mind._

_Are these dreams? Are they nothing more than my fevered imagination? A desperate prayer cast into an indifferent universe?_

_Or are these splinters of memories? The repercussions of traveling in my own timeline? I can’t tell._

_Some nights when I wake, I swear I can feel his hand in mine._


	6. Who Keeps Your Flame

~*~  
 _Who Keeps Your Flame_

_December 20, 1777  
Valley Forge, PA_

I lost you and I couldn’t bear it. Not after Lorena and Iris. Not after we shared the bottle of vodka. After I kissed you for the first time. After you kissed me back. 

So I changed it. Went back and eliminated the file that led me to Rittenhouse. In freeing myself, I saved Lorena and Iris at last, leaving a version of myself behind to live a long life with the family I desperately missed. I would never be that man again. Would that I could go back to them, but I’d been irreparably changed by my experiences; what I found myself willing to do to bring them back. To bring you back.

I freed you. From losing your sister. From the constant fight to protect history. You could go get that job at that little liberal arts college like you always wanted. You’d be happy.

They say you can never go home again. 

In this case, I really can’t. The instant I step one foot back into my own timeline, the version of the man living a long happy life will disappear. 

So I asked myself, what would you do if you had more time? I have your journal to guide me. I admit, I was tempted to go make friends with Doc Holliday, but there’s no one to protect in the Old West but rogues and thieves and they’re best left to their vigilante justice. 

I thought of you and your worry for the Marquis de Lafayette even in your last moments. Urging me to go after the shooter to protect him. Certain Rittenhouse wouldn’t stop until the man was dead. I couldn’t leave your side then, but I could honor your wishes in the end. I considered it my penance for coming into your life. For the mess I created through time that you cleaned up. 

Denise. Jiya. Rufus. Mason. Even Wyatt. I owed you all a debt I could never repay. 

I decided to go back and protect America to honor the team. I’d protect Lafayette and Hamilton and Washington and all the rest. Rittenhouse will never stop and wherever they decide to attack, I will be there, waiting.

In the end, I saved the people I loved. That’s what matters.

“Lieutenant Colonel!” I looked up at the Marquis de Lafayette from where I wrote in her journal, an undelivered letter to the woman I love. “These barracks aren’t going to build themselves. If I’m carrying logs, you’re carrying logs.”


	7. Raise a Glass to Freedom

~*~  
 _Raise a Glass to Freedom_

_July 9, 1776_   
_New York City_   
_Bowling Green Park_

The gathering swarms into a mob, streaming down Broadway to Bowling Green Park. A sky full of stars stretches out above, endless stretches of absence dotted by pinpricks of light. I follow the crowd, knowing I will find Hercules Mulligan and the Marquis de Lafayette at Hamilton’s side as the rioters lash ropes to King George III, toppling the leaden statue from its pedestal and hacking it to bits.

The chaotic mass of bodies roars its approval.

I can’t hold in my laughter when John Laurens and Lafayette climb the cast iron bars of the fence surrounding the park and begin sawing the crowns off the top of the posts. Hercules uses an axe to free an iron bar, mounting the head of the King to parade through the streets of New York City.

By torchlight, they look like the revolutionaries who wrestled freedom and democracy from the stranglehold of the monarchy. 

I am here because two hundred and forty-two years in the future, the monarchy wants its subjects back. 

I should take the shot now, in this liminal world ruled by anarchy, but if I am to kill the American Revolution in the cradle, I find I can’t erase this last moment of rebellion from history. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During my research for this story I stumbled upon this little tidbit of information. That after Washington had the Declaration of Independence read to the troops a group streamed down Broadway to Bowling Green Park and toppled the statue of King George III. I found out that Hercules Mulligan was definitely there, but I added the rest. There's no proof that Hamilton, Laurens, and Lafayette were there. But they were all friends at the time so I thought it fitting that I included them. 
> 
> Also, we started tearing down statues from the past we didn't agree with long, long before the 21st century. King George's head was later melted down to make 42,088 bullets for the Revolution. 
> 
> https://www.encyclopediavirginia.org/media_player?mets_filename=evm00003098mets.xml  
> http://www.teachushistory.org/american-revolution/resources/pulling-down-statue-george-iii


	8. One Last Time

_~*~  
_ _One Last Time_

_December 12, 2014_   
_San Diego, CA_

“Get off your ass and fight!” 

That voice confirmed his impending death. Only his failing mind would conjure an angry Lucy Preston in his remaining minutes on Earth. At least he’d get to see her one last time. He tried and failed to crack his eyes to see the hallucination that accompanied the historian’s irritated voice. 

“Coward.”

It made a sad sort of sense this was his last encounter with her; he’d always loved her fiery side best. 

“I will not allow you to sacrifice yourself for some misguided notion of redemption.” 

Hands grabbed at him, tiny grains of sand rough against his lower back as he was dragged. 

“You don’t get to take the easy way out.” 

_Hands?_

“Lucy?” he croaked out. She couldn’t be here. Shouldn’t. She collapsed under his weight when another lightning bolt of pain shot through him. “Why?”

“Please, Flynn,” she begged, tears choking her. “I can’t do this alone. I’m not strong enough.” Despite her words, she tried again to haul him up the side of the dune. The ground shifted beneath them and she cradled him as they slid back down the precious feet she’d managed to climb. “Don’t leave me.”

“I saved Rufus?” He opened his eyes enough to see her nod. “That is enough.” 

She lifted a hand to scrub at her cheeks, a renewed look of determination on her face. “It’ll never be enough, Garcia Flynn.”

***

Lucy screamed in agony as the effects of traveling in her own time stream ripped through her body. Clutching Flynn to her chest, a cloudy, red haze settled over her vision, but she refused to let go even as the universe attempted to shred her to atoms. 

“Lucy…” Terror filled his tortured whisper. “You have to go.” 

“I do not,” she gritted out as the pain receded, if only for a brief moment. If she didn’t get them both back to the Lifeboat, she’d stay by his side until the end. The instant Denise had shown Lucy the autopsy report she knew she couldn’t let him die alone, forgotten and nameless on a California beach. A man out of time whose body would lie in an unmarked grave, the world oblivious to the hero buried there. “I’ll bring you home or I’ll die trying.” 

Flynn let out a strangled cry and shuddered in her arms. Incoherent murmured pleas fell from her lips as she kissed his forehead and renewed her efforts to get them to the time machine. “Don’t you dare die on me, you stubborn man.” 

“Save yourself. None of this matters if you—“ A harsh cough wracked his body and a trickle of blood ran down from his lips. “It’s too late for me.”

Panic gripped her heart. Fear wouldn’t do her any good. She reached for her anger, allowing it to fuel her. He grunted in pain when she shoved him further up the dune. 

“You think I’m the kind of woman who’d just wash my hands and be done with you.” Another grunt and they’d gained another foot. “Whelp, poor Flynn. Too bad he’s dead. Pass the whiskey.” Another grunt. “You obviously don’t know me very well.” Crumpling in pain when a vise gripped her brain and electricity burned in her veins, she bit out, breathless, “We’re gonna both die here if you don’t fight. And then, Rittenhouse wins.” 

Flynn dug in his heel, managing one small step; Lucy wanted to cry in relief. She’d shame him all the way to the Lifeboat if it saved his stupid life. 

“Who’s gonna protect Jiya and Rufus? They’ll only have Wyatt and Agent Christopher. How long do you think they’ll last?” 

He growled and flipped onto his stomach, clawing for purchase in the tall grass. She clenched her teeth, suffering through another wave of anguish, before pushing forward. They could do this. Together. 

“I give them six months tops.” 

Another painfully gained step.

“You’re the only one who has a clue how to save Amy, I can’t believe you’d just abandon her. You owe me.” 

They scrabbled upward on their hands and knees, battered by the wind whipping off the ocean. She saw surrender and defeat skitter across his features. 

“And what about Lorena and Iris?” There were almost at the top of the hill, the Lifeboat within view. “What was your whole mission for if you’re just going to leave them to their fates?” 

***

Lucy Preston laid bare every one of his failings and demanded more. As she always had. He didn’t know whether to strangle or kiss her. In the end he did neither, reaching instead for her extended hand, allowing her to help him clamber onto the rung of the time machine. He near fell through the doorway and crumbled to the floor in a heap. 

She left Flynn there and crawled to the console, fumbling the coordinates to jump back to the future. They had no time to buckle in and he stretched his hand to hers as she slid to lie on the floor. He used the last of his energy to tug her to him and she burrowed into his chest. 

“You came for me,” he whispered against the crown of her head. 

The Lifeboat rattled and shook, tumbling through time as they clung to each other. 

Tear-filled, bloodshot eyes stared up at him. “Do you think you matter so little to me that I’d—” 

“I was expendable.” She smothered a sob and he could feel her tremors. 

The world stilled as they reached their destination. 

“That’s what you think?” 

“You’re meant to fall in love with Wyatt.” Flynn knew. He’d read the words written in her very own hand. 

Lucy extricated herself from his embrace, pushing upright to punch in the sequence to open the door. She refused to look at him. “I don’t know who that Lucy is. She lived an entire life I know nothing about.” The air hissed into the cabin as the door began to slide open. “You decided what was best for me without actually consulting me.”

“I thought…” Flynn knelt behind her, wishing she’d turn around and rage at him as she had so often in the past. Anything would be better than this nothingness that surrounded her. As if in saving him, she’d lost herself. 

“You didn’t think, Garcia.” A commotion sounded behind them and still she didn’t turn. “I mistakenly believed—” 

He laid a hand over hers. “Believed what, Lucy?”

She uncurled her death grip on the arm of the seat. Turning her hand over so their palms touched, she threaded her fingers through his. “I wish you’d trusted me.”

“I did. I do.” His heart leapt into his throat when she finally turned to look at him. He asked again, “Believed what?” 

She leaned forward, brushing their lips too briefly. Before he could deepen the kiss, she rose and pushed past him. He heard the telltale sound of cocking weapons. 

Lucy glanced back at him as he scrambled to his feet, giving him a sad smile. “Believed in us.” 

“Lucy Preston, you are under arrest.”

***

She’d expected this and raised her hands, taking three slow, careful steps down the stairs. She’d known the repercussions. 

“What’s going on here?” he asked, coming to stand behind her.

Agent Christopher ignored him and commanded, “Wyatt, cuff her.” 

“You will not touch her.” Flynn’s deep, lethal voice vibrated at her back. 

“While I am glad she succeeded in rescuing you, she disobeyed a direct order.” The older woman leveled him with a hard stare. “Stand aside.” 

He moved close enough she could feel the heat of his body. “I won’t.” 

She stepped out of his comforting warmth. Wyatt met her halfway giving her a pity-filled smile and closing the cool metal around her offered wrists. “I’m sorry about this, Lucy.” 

“I knew what I risked.” She glanced back at the man she loved. The feeling was new and muddled with the knowledge that he didn’t trust her. Not really. Still, seeing him standing there, very much alive, she couldn’t find it in herself to regret even one of her decisions. “It was worth it.” 

“What are you doing?” Flynn reached to stop her and she sidestepped his grasp. 

"I stole a time machine. I imagine I'm going to jail."


	9. Who Dies

_~*~  
_ _Who Dies_

_I woke breathless, gasping for air and coated in sweat. Again. The newest therapist believes that if I write down these dreams that turn to nightmares in the dim light of my stark white bedroom, I will move beyond them. Learn to live without you._

_She won’t last any longer than the last three._

_Nevertheless, here I am, putting ink to paper, adding to the journal I carried with me to this place, a remnant of so many timelines only I remember._

_Every night I save you._

_In the morning, I am alone._

_In my desperation, I lost everyone._


	10. Wait For It

~*~  
 _Wait For It_

_December 30, 1777  
York, PA_

Candlelight and the promise of warmth beckon from windows of the simple two story stone house that abuts an inviting pub next door. The Marquis de Lafayette and I dismount as two servants hurry forward to lead our horses behind the house to the stable. With the storm intensifying, we’ll likely have to stay the night. No need to risk the animals over the rolling farmland in the dark. We’d been foolish to risk the seventy-five miles, but the storm had only been a wispy white drift in the distance when we’d left and the mission far too important to ignore the opportunity to gather information.

“You ready to walk into the lion’s den?” I ask, a sidelong glance at the man by my side. 

“Garcia,” Lafayette draws out my name in a thick French accent, his usual mirth dancing in his eyes, “I never walk. Meander, amble, or stroll, maybe. I have been known to saunter into a room a time or two before. But something as pedestrian as walking? Never.” 

He prances up the stairs and I shake my head in mock dismay. “How did we ever become friends?” 

“If I recall correctly, you helped me and a few fellow patriots mount the head of King Louis the III on a pike. And saved us from being taken in by the authorities after.” The door opens and he turns to enter, adding, as if it the most obvious thing in the world, “Of course we became friends. Now, let’s get inside before I freeze my balls off.”

“It’s a wonder we’ve even been invited to this affair with your language,” I chide with a smirk as a liveried butler waits to take his overcoat. 

Lafayette adjusts the ruffles at his neck as the butler disappears down a long hallway. “They believe they can sway me from Washington’s side with a bit of fine brandy and a meal fit for a king. It won’t work, but a dinner party is a dinner party and who I am to turn down an invitation?” 

We follow sounds of murmured conversation into a brightly lit room filled with guests. Newly minted Inspector General Thomas Conway reclines in a plush green velvet chair, legs stretched out before him, a drink clutched in one fist. James Wilkinson sits across from him, leaning forward to say something lost amongst the various conversations. Their wives gather off to the side, sipping wine and gossiping amongst themselves.

Major General Horatio Gates stands at the mantel of a large stone fireplace presiding over the gathering. “Gentlemen, come in, come in. Warm yourselves by the fire. So nice of you to join us. Samuel.” Their host snaps his fingers and an older servant with beady eyes rushes over with a tray bearing two glasses of brandy. “We weren’t sure if you’d make it with the storm passing through.” 

I fade into another corner, content to observe the situation. Lafayette plays the gregarious, amiable guest far better anyway. This way they’ll learn more about the plans of the Conway Cabal and their intentions towards Washington. Those working against the future First President of the United States failed in their scheme to replace the General with Gates in my timeline, but if Rittenhouse is as determined to shape the country as I think, they won’t stop until they succeed. 

The night proceeds as expected, drinks, mindless conversation, and a long, leisurely dinner. Wine flows and loosens the tongues of the men around the shining wooden table. The women excuse themselves to the drawing room to do whatever women do when left without the hovering, prying eyes of men. 

“We all know who the real hero of Brandywine is,” Conway gestures at Lafayette who lounges back in an overstuffed, high-backed chair, content to allow these men enough rope to hang themselves. The obsequious man raises his glass and the others follow suit. “To the Marquis de Lafayette.” 

The Marquis refuses to drink and I step closer.

Conway should notice the rage in the other man’s eyes, but he doesn’t, pushing forward anyway. “Lafayette, you must see reason. Washington is a fine commander for a troop of men, but he is a weak general. How many battles has he lost? How many men? If we are to succeed as a nation, we need bold leadership.” 

Lafayette smiles, cold and calculating. “And who do you suggest that we promote in his place, hmmm? You, I suppose?” 

Conway glances away as if the thought has never crossed his mind. “No, of course not. I believe the Major General would be best suited to that position.” 

“Ahhhhh, Horatio then. Yes, I see, I see. With you as his right hand man, I presume.” Lafayette rolls his glass between his palms. “Not satisfied with the promotion to Inspector General then.”

“I would not presume,” Conway hedged and I saw the naked ambition in his eyes. “We would, of course, offer you any command of your choosing.” 

“But what of Charles? You can’t forget about your old friend Charles Lee, now can you? I’m sure he also would like to be General.” The squirrly man shrinks into his seat, avoiding Lafayette’s gaze as he brushes an invisible piece of lint from his knee. “What say you, Horatio? What would you offer me? Thirty pieces of silver?” 

The Major General realizes their misstep before Conway and I see him searching for the words to smooth over the situation, but Conway blunders forward, heedless of the danger. “Would you risk France’s freedom on a leader like Washington?

The Marquis de Lafayette rises, lifting his own glass in answer. “General George Washington is not only one of the finest commanders I have ever met, but also one of the finest men I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.” He downs his whiskey and sets the glass aside. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, good sirs, I do believe it’s time Lieutenant Colonel Flynn and I take our leave.” He turns to Gates whose ashen face reveals a man who knows he’ll regret the night’s events in the morning. 

Gates steps towards the man and I intercept his path. “As Lafayette indicated, we’ll be leaving.”

“Please, Marquis, this is all a misunderstanding.” Gates begs and would grovel on his hands and knees if I were to allow him the space to do so. “Please, do not venture out in the night. Into the storm. Accept my apology and hospitality for the evening. We can set things to right in the morning.” 

The man withers under Lafayette’s stare. “As if I would suffer either myself or my companion to stay in a house with such disloyal men. I’m likely to find a dagger in my back for the naïveté. The pub next door looked homey. I’m sure we’ll find far more suitable accommodations there. Conway,” Lafayette calls to the man trying to disappear into the bookshelves, “we’ll expect you at Valley Forge in the coming days.” 

“Gentlemen,” I say as Lafayette and I bow in tandem. “I think we’ll see to the horses ourselves.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Conway Cabal was a group of men, including Thomas Conway, Charles Lee, and General Horatio Gates to replace Washington as the head of the Continental Army. They failed. WHOOPS! There is a line in Hamilton where Alexander Hamilton says, "John should have shot him in the mouth. That would've shut him up" after the duel with Charles Lee. In reality it was Thomas Conway involved in the duel and he really did get shot in the mouth. Conway thought he was gonna die for sure and wrote a letter apologizing to Washington for the whole thing. He had to live with his disgrace. 
> 
> It is during this dinner that it is believed that Lafayette gave the Toast that Saved America when the Conway Cabal tried to recruit him to their side. 
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Conway_Cabal  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_Plough_Tavern  
> https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/travel/getting-to-the-bottom-of-a-lafayette-mystery-in-york-pa/2017/09/14/740aae7e-93eb-11e7-aace-04b862b2b3f3_story.html


	11. The Story of Tonight

~*~  
 _The Story of Tonight_

_July 9, 1776_   
_New York City_   
_Fraunces Tavern_

The four men gather around the wooden table, arguing in the way of all young men who’ve just toppled a statue of a soon to be mad king: drunk and with an overabundance of surety and bravado. Their voices carry out into the night as a patron exits and stumbles down the front stairs. I shrink into the shadow of the ancient oak tree across the street, waiting. 

“You aren’t really going to kill Alexander Hamilton are you?” Jiya asks from behind me. “I mean, besides the whole destroying America thing, it’d be a true national tragedy to lose the Hamilton soundtrack.”

“Not Hamilton, he’s far too important. Rittenhouse would never allow anything to mess with the money.” 

“Then who?” 

My friend isn’t going anywhere without some answers. That much is obvious. “Marquis de Lafayette. As important as Hamilton is, Lafayette’s death at this point would have a much wider effect on the timeline. Starting with the Battle of Brandywine.” 

Unsatisfied with my answer, she asks, “Why?” 

Sighing, I lower my weapon and lean against the tree trunk. “I told you to stay back at the Mothership.” 

“Rufus is there. It’s fine.” She moves to stand next to me, staring at Fraunces Tavern, headquarters to George Washington and where the future first President would make his final speech to his men after the British soldiers leave New York for good. “Let’s set aside the killing Lafayette thing for a second. I don’t think you’ll really go through with it,” she remarks, more to herself than me. “I thought it might be a good time for a chat.”

I holster my sidearm. I have time. “A chat?” 

“Yeah, a chat.” 

I push away from the tree, putting a few feet between us. “Is there something in particular you’d like to know?” 

“Yes. I would very much like to know, how are you okay?” 

Okay about what? We are from two different timelines. This is my first mission since returning from giving my father the zip drive. Jiya could be referring to anything. My family kept me isolated so I have no way of knowing. 

I say nothing hoping she will give me a hint. 

“Flynn died in your arms three weeks ago and now you’re what? Gung-ho Rittenhouse? I don’t buy it.” A cavern opens up inside me and she pushes forward, sensing my panic and seizing on it. “You two grew close after you started working together to take them down. Even if nothing ever happened between you, he died to save your life. This is how you repay him?” 

Flynn died. Again. Even after I bargained away my soul. “No. They were supposed to leave him alone.” I start pacing, frantic to wake up from this nightmare. “That was the deal.” 

“What deal, Lucy? You aren’t making sense. And let’s be real, you haven’t made sense since Christmas.” She crosses to stand in front of me, reaching for my hands. “At first I chalked it up to Garcia dying only the week before, who am I to judge someone else’s grief, but you were different. I dunno, it was like you were pretending he didn’t exist.” 

The panic comes with the enormity of what I’ve done and the story comes pouring out of me before I can stop it. How I gave Rittenhouse the keys to the kingdom, paying a high ransom to save Flynn and his family. How I promised to step into the role destined to me by my birth and bloodline. I don’t know when I end up on my knees sobbing into dirty hands, but I do. “My father promised me he wouldn’t harm them. It’s the only reason I agreed.”

Jiya withdraws a crumpled handkerchief from her sleeve and hands it over. “Lorena and Iris are fine. Denise arranged for them to go into protective custody. Even though Lorena and Flynn were no longer together, they all agreed it was safer.” 

“But he wasn’t supposed to get dragged into all this. He was supposed to live a long happy life with his family.” 

She gives me a sad smile. “Fighting on opposite sides gave us few opportunities to speak, but he told me once how he found himself in a bar in Sao Paulo, Brazil. He had the chance to walk away. He’d been chased thousands of miles from his family, but even then, he couldn’t stop. Once he knew what Rittenhouse was doing, he couldn’t turn away. No matter what it cost him.”

“So I did it for nothing.” 

“Not for nothing.” She drags me into a fierce hug. “For love.” 

I relish the comfort for a long moment before pulling out of her arms to stand again, needing to move. “I lost him anyway.”

“You could change it.” 

I turn to face her, despair warring with rage. “I tried that. Look where it got me.” 

“Try again.” She unwinds a ponytail holder from her wrist and pulls back her hair. “Maybe this time, though, _don’t_ give the bad guys the super secret zip drive.” 

A spark of hope lights inside me despite my best attempts to quash it. Maybe I can still save him. “You have any suggestions?” 

“You want to change history just a little. Enough to give Flynn a fighting chance without throwing everything out of whack.” Jiya threads her fingers through mine, tugging me away from Alexander Hamilton, Marquis de Lafayette and the rest of the New York Sons of Liberty. Leaving them to tomorrow’s hangovers and the fight for freedom. “What about your journal?” 

My heart thumps heavily in my chest and I resist the urge to slip my fingers into my pocket and touch it in reassurance. “My journal? How can that help?” 

“How long have you been writing it? If you go back to the moment Flynn made his choice to fight Rittenhouse and give it to him, you might be able to help him enough to turn the tide.”

“If I don’t kill Lafayette, my father will never allow me within ten feet of the jump pad.” 

“Then you’ll have to go now,” she says as if it’s just that easy. The light from the Mothership beams in between the branches of the trees as we approach. 

I want to believe in her plan, so badly. “What about you and Rufus? You know how dangerous it is to travel into your own timeline.” 

I’m willing to take the risk. Anything for Flynn.

“We can program the jump for you, then go have a drink in that very inviting tavern. Who wouldn’t take the opportunity to drink with those guys? They looked like fun. You can pick us up after.” 

“Pick us up after what?” Rufus asks, popping his head out of the time machine.

Jiya clambers up next to him, giving him a quick, affectionate kiss. “After Lucy resets the timeline.” 

I smile for the first time as his eyes widen with utter panic. “Wait. What?” 

“You’ll remember an entire lifetime that doesn’t exist and have to step into a new one when we return,” I warn, knowing the struggle I’ve suffered trying to blend into an unknown life at Rittenhouse. And Ben and Carol, at least, knew I was coming. “It won’t be easy.” 

Jiya shrugs and breaks into a wide smile at Rufus’ look of horror. “It’ll give us a leg up fighting them the next time around.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fraunces Tavern was used as the New York Headquarters of George Washington and was the site of his farewell speech to his men after the British left the city. It's freaking cool, y'all. 
> 
> https://www.frauncestavernmuseum.org/history


	12. The Words Don't Reach

~*~  
 _The Words Don’t Reach_

_December 12, 2014_   
_San Diego, CA_

“Lorena Flynn?” Lucy approached the dark haired woman on the bench.

Flynn’s wife slid her hand inside the purse at her right, the muzzle of her hidden weapon cocked and aimed no doubt. “You have me at a loss.”

She pulled her own hands from her pockets, slowly raising them. “My name is Lucy Preston, I am a friend of your husband.” 

“He’s never mentioned you.” 

Everything Flynn told her about Lorena led her to believe that the other woman would respond best to the complete and utter truth. No matter how far fetched. 

She dove right in, no time to waste. “That’s because he hasn’t met me yet.” 

“Iris.” Lorena kept her hand on her hidden weapon and rose to move closer to her daughter. Iris glanced up at the harsh tone and gave her mother a quizzical look. A silent exchange occurred between them before the little girl turned back to building her sandcastle.

“Stop,” Lucy’s voice came out panicked as she checked the watch at her wrist counting down the seconds she had before the effects of traveling in her own timeline began. Mason gave her reason to believe that if she didn’t make it back to the Lifeboat within fifteen minutes, the repercussions would be dire. “I don’t have much time.” 

“You’ve got one minute.” Lorena clutched her handbag to her side, but didn’t leave.

She’d take it. “You know that Flynn’s job is highly classified?” 

The other woman gave her a tight nod. “He’s nothing more than an Asset. Sits behind a desk most days.” 

“While sitting behind that desk, he stumbled upon a group named Rittenhouse, drawing their attention and putting all of you in danger.” 

“None of this explains how you are both my husband’s friend, but haven’t met him yet.” 

“I didn’t say I hadn’t met him. He hasn’t met me yet.” 

Lorena cast a glance at Iris playing in the sandbox. “You’re running out of time and I’m running out of patience.” 

“I’m from four years in the future.” Time to stop beating around the bush. “And two years from now Flynn’s going to steal a time machine.” 

“You’re from the future? He’s going to steal a _time machine?_ Do you have any idea how insane you sound?” Lorena raised two skeptical eyebrows. 

She chuckled, “Actually I do. It’s all very complicated. But I need you to trust me.”

“And why in the world should I do that?” She rummaged around in her purse. “What I should do is call the cops and have you committed.” 

Lorena pulled out a cell phone, which meant she wasn’t pointing her weapon anymore. Lucy considered that progress. She decided to rip off the Band-Aid. “Because tonight you and Iris are going to be murdered.” 

“Murdered?” Flynn’s wife took a backwards step towards Iris. “I’ve heard enough.” 

Lucy reached into her pocket and then extended her hand, the gold wedding band she’d stolen from Flynn’s nightstand resting in the center of her palm. Lucy blinked away tears. “That night— _tonight—_ haunts him. He tried so many times to save you and failed.” 

Lorena touched the ring as if she expected it to disappear. “He would never recover from something like that.” 

“He didn’t.” Lucy looked away, unable to hide her shame. “I’m trying to save his life.” 

The blood drained from the other woman’s face. “Tell me what you need me to do.” 

“We have a plan to get you and Iris out. I’ll be there around one a.m. so be ready. Then my team will stop Rittenhouse and stage your deaths.” 

“If you can stop them, why do we still need to die?” 

“There’s no way to predict the ripple effect from altering the past. We could end up worse off. Flynn needs to steal the time machine to set off the chain of events that sent me here in the first place.” 

“What happens after you get us out?” 

“I bring you back to 2018 and hopefully keep Flynn from going completely rogue.”

“Have you had much success with that in the past?” Lorena gestured to Iris to finish up. 

“I did mention that he stole a time machine, correct?” Lucy gave her a fleeting smile. “I won’t lie to you. This won’t be easy. You’ll be leaving everything you know behind. And when you see Flynn again, he won’t be the same Garcia you know now. That night,” she paused and searched the woman’s face. Lorena would need an inordinate amount of strength before the end of it all. Lucy exhaled heavily. “The night the two of you died changed him. He’s been living without you for four years.”

“Four years.” A wind blew a stray lock of hair across Lorena’s cheek and she tucked it behind her ear, studying Lucy’s face. “Are the two of you together? I wouldn’t blame you or him, but I’d like to know before I step into this future.”

She shoved her hands in her pockets and shrugged. “He kissed me one night, but it wasn’t right and we both knew it. He never stopped loving you. Never stopped trying to save you.” 

There was more to the story, but there wasn’t time. Besides, Lucy’d sacrifice what might have been to bring them back. She’d drop Lorena and Iris off in the bunker while the team was in 1863 with Harriet Tubman and have a conversation with Denise to warn her about Jess. If all went according to plan, she’d save Flynn without losing Rufus. 

“Who are you?” Iris looked up at her and slipped her hand into her mother’s. 

Lucy knelt down to eye level with the little girl. “My name’s Lucy, what’s yours?” 

“Iris,” she stated, plainly suspicious of the woman crouched before her. 

“Well it’s very nice to meet you, Iris.” A bolt of lightning shot through her brain and she rose suddenly, swaying before she regained her balance. “I need to go. You’ll be ready tonight?” 

Lorena nodded, gripping Iris’ hand just a little bit tighter. “Will you be okay?” 

“Don’t worry about me.” Lucy turned, squinting against the late afternoon sun. She had three minutes to make it back to the Lifeboat. She started to break into a run and thought better of it, turning back. “And Lorena?” 

The other woman looked up from buttoning her daughter’s coat. “Yes?” 

“Tell him to read her another story tonight when she asks.” _Just in case._

***

_March 23, 2019_

A pall hung over the bunker. 

After North Korea, everything seemed fine. They had Rufus back and defeated Rittenhouse, they should’ve been elated. But as the days dragged on the magnitude of what they’d pushed Flynn to do settled over all of them. Even if they hadn’t spelled it out in so many words, they’d made him feel expendable and in the end turned him into the murderer he never wanted to be. 

Jiya and Rufus were fighting, understandably so since the Rufus Flynn saved didn’t remember three very important years of Jiya’s life. They were out of sync. Once Wyatt realized he’d condemned the woman he loved to die a second time, he retreated into his room with a bottle and only emerged for the occasional meal. The team should have been closing up shop in the bunker and eagerly moving on to their real lives. The lives Rittenhouse had interrupted. 

Instead, they stayed underground awaiting orders from a universe that judged them for their choices. As if the alarm would sound and they’d be off on another mission. 

By the third week, she couldn’t stand the silence. She had to fix it. 

They had to fix it. 

Lucy approached Mason first asking if her idea was even feasible. It took two more weeks of planning before they were ready. 

Jumping to Lorena had only been the first part of the mission. Someone had to warn the woman before the team invaded her house and shot Flynn with a tranquilizer dart that would keep him out long enough for them to take out Rittenhouse’s agents and stage the scene. Afterwards, Wyatt, Jiya, Rufus, and Denise would return to the present while Lucy dropped off Lorena and Iris before returning to a hopefully better future. 

She honestly didn’t know what she’d do if they failed. She could lose them all over again. The team knew what they were risking, but they couldn’t live with the enormity of what they’d done. 

Lucy padded through the quiet bunker, each of the team members secluded in their private spaces as they waited for the Lifeboat’s battery to recharge. Once the time machine was ready they’d set the plan in motion. She stopped in the living room area and stared at the life-sized replicas of Flynn’s wife and child Mason had made in one of his sketchier, off-the-grid companies neither the U.S. Government nor Rittenhouse ever discovered. 

She shook off the shivers that ran over her skin. Everything would be fine. They’d stop Jess from kidnapping Jiya and stealing the Lifeboat, saving Rufus, Flynn, and Jess from the fallout of those actions. 

Lorena and Iris? She was saving them just for Flynn. She could’ve just warned Denise about Jess and been done with it. But she wanted Flynn to know that he mattered to the team. Saving his wife and child was the best way Lucy could think of to show him that. His family was innocent in all of this. They never deserved to die in the first place. It was a wrong she’d long meant to right. 

Even if she didn’t survive, it would all be worth it.

***

Wyatt, Denise, and Jiya jumped first in the Mothership. The Lifeboat followed close on its heels with Rufus and Lucy. Once they were all in place, Denise gave the team the signal to go. They broke into motion, Lucy and Rufus sneaking around one side to Lorena and Flynn’s bedroom window. The rest went around the other side to head off Rittenhouse’s agents. She had no time to worry the others; she had to trust that they would complete the mission. 

In the end, everything went according to plan and the team split up to return to their timeline before their brains exploded. Lucy needed to hang on a little longer. Lorena and Iris followed in her wake, Flynn’s daughter barely awake and very confused. There was no time for explanations. Lorena stopped long enough to adjust the single bag she brought with her and pick up the little girl. 

“I’m sorry for all of this,” Lucy apologized as they ran back down the street and ducked into a small cove of pine trees where she’d left the Lifeboat. “I had to save him.” 

“I understand.” Flynn’s wife skidded to a halt when the time machine came into view. 

Lucy smiled despite everything. “This is when I’d normally give you the basic 'Yes, time travel really is real' welcome speech, but I’m afraid we’re running a little short on time.”

“Is it bigger on the inside?” Iris asked, not even remotely wowed. 

How she knew was beyond Lucy. Probably one of those kid things. “You and Jiya are going to get along so well.”


	13. Who Tells Your Story

~*~  
 _Who Tells Your Story_

_I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve saved you only to lose you again. How many times I’ve fallen in love with you. I remember lives I don’t remember living, but they are there, merging with my memories, best friends and lifelong strangers. Through it all, your face. Your crinkly-eyed smile. Your anguish as you wrestled with redemption and hope and all those emotions so foreign to the two of us. The things we’ve done to save those we love._

_Do I remember a lifetime where we saved Lorena and Iris, Amy and my mother, Jess and Rufus and Denise and Mason and everyone else we’ve lost in these tangled and tumbling timelines? I like to think maybe, somewhere along the way, we each found our happy ending._

_At least that’s what I tell myself in the dark of night when only the buzzing of the fluorescents from the hallway keep me company._

_When I save you, do you remember? Do the lifetimes we shared together plague your dreams as they do mine? Reminding me of every failure. Every time I let the team down and couldn’t stop myself from trying again._

_Sometimes I wish Mason had never created the time machine._

_I never would have met you, but you’d be alive._


	14. That Could Be Enough

~*~  
 _That Could Be Enough_

_December 29, 1777  
Valley Forge, PA_

We landed in the middle of a blizzard making the hike through the woods to Valley Forge impossible without proper gear. It seemed likely Rittenhouse wanted General George Washington, Commander of the Continental Army, dead, but that was just the going theory. Given the fact that the Conway Cabal was in full swing at this point, it would not surprise me to hear that men like Thomas Conway and Charles Lee were a part and parcel of the plot and tied to Rittenhouse. Though, to be fair, nothing much surprised me these days. It at least gave us a place to start.

Rufus, Jiya, and I did the only thing we could, huddled inside the Lifeboat out of the elements. Tension filled the small space, the silence heavy. I’d confessed only minutes before the jump alarm sounded. Poor timing on my part, no doubt, but how was I to know that Rittenhouse was about to drag us to the 18th century? I wish I could have kept the truth from them, but the guilt weighed me down. 

I’d played God too many times and lost myself along the way, but I couldn’t see a way out of the never ending cycle without letting them die. Letting Rittenhouse win for once and for all.

And I needed them. All of them.

Even the man who disappeared from my life with frightening regularity. I’d begun to think that Flynn was just meant to die and I couldn’t allow that. I wouldn’t. I didn’t the first time and I hadn’t any time since. The team needed him desperately right now and I still wouldn’t risk him. Not ever again. Maybe that made me a monster, I couldn’t tell anymore.

Rufus looked at me with pity-filled eyes and I had to turn away, the emotion too ragged, ripping at the stitches of my past and what I’d done. What little conversation we exchanged pertained only to the mission, worry that Rittenhouse would infiltrate Valley Forge before we got there. Thankfully, it seemed unlikely in the storm. We were all trapped in the white, swirling stasis.

After the third hour of being cooped up, Jiya spoke. “You had no right.”

She didn’t need to explain what she meant. I’d changed history to save both of them. Again. “You expected me to leave you dead?”

“We both knew the mission when we accepted it. You think we didn’t know the dangers of joining this war?” She scrubbed her thumb along the arm of her seat. “You can’t keep saving us, Lucy. It’s not right and you know it.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jiya turned away. “No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” And I wasn’t. The universe had taken him from me over and over and over again and I’d be damned if I was losing Jiya and Rufus too. Again. _He’s alive,_ I remind myself. Safe with his family. I must remember. “I can’t do this without you.”

“That’s not your choice,” Rufus replied, his voice quiet.

I snapped, too exhausted to keep my temper in check. “You’d rather be dead?”

His shoulders slumped and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Of course not, but that’s not the way things worked out, Lucy.”

“It shouldn’t have worked out that way,” I pleaded with them to understand. I didn’t have a real choice; I was losing myself in the maelstrom of timelines. Unsure where I was at any given moment, with memories of forgotten lifetimes surfacing like great white sharks, ready to devour the present whole. “I fixed it. I had to.”

He reached across and slipped his hand into mine as he had so many times before, the feeling reassuring. “You have to stop.”

“I can’t lose you guys.” I squeezed his hand and he tightened his grip.

“You’re trying to get yourself killed and one day you’re going to succeed,” Jiya said, sadness underlying her harsh words. “And then what happens? Rittenhouse brings back a more compliant version of you and we start all over again. How many times have you saved us now? Can you even remember?”

With her visions, Jiya understood more than Lucy could ever properly explain. “I know you’re right, I do, I just…” 

“I know,” she said, her words kind and full of understanding. Her closest friend reached for her other hand. “I don’t think he’d want you to do this to yourself. We saved his family. They’re together. Let that be enough.”

And we had saved them. They were all safe and insulated from the worst of Rittenhouse’s alterations to the timeline. The three of them, soon to be four, lived in a community of like-minded families on an abandoned Army base in Arizona. Flynn had become their defacto leader in the face of this apocalypse, keeping them sheltered and fed and safe.

Yes, that could be enough.

I didn’t cry anymore, the grief etched into my life too deeply for tears, but I took a deep breath, thankful for the two friends still by my side, as well as the two left back at the bunker. It wasn’t the original bunker anymore, but another, hidden deep under a Michigan lake. We’d moved several times since Denise first found us that dank, rusted place we called home. I remembered being happy there; I wondered if I’d ever be happy again.

Amy. I still had Amy. My baby sister. My best friend. I hated that she got tangled in all this, but at least she was protected.

Their hands slipped out of mine and Jiya turned to check the radar on one of the monitors. “Looks like we’re about to get a break in the storm. If there was ever a time to leave, it’d be now.”

“Alrighty then,” Rufus announced, pulling on his mittens, “let’s go save us another President.”


	15. Stay Alive

~*~  
 _Stay Alive_

 _January 1, 1778_  
Valley Forge, PA  
George Washington’s Headquarters

I poked at the bed of coals, stirring the fire to life in the kitchen hearth. The wan winter light crept over the sill and seeped in despite the storm. We had two days of brilliant sunshine before the snow returned with a fury in the middle of the night. I woke to the sound of howling wind like the hounds of hell tore across the fields, and when sleep eluded me, I dressed and headed down to start the day.

I grabbed a log of firewood and fed the fire before moving to the icy window. Clearing away a pane of glass, I tried to peer through the almost dark. There was nothing but snow, the wind, and the wooden huts that served as barracks barely visible except as covered white mounds.

Three days and no contact. I was beginning to wonder if we’d been led astray.

For three days, we searched through the twelve thousand troops, talking to everyone from Washington himself to the cook in the mess and the nurses in the medical tent. To no avail. Jiya and Rufus had a couple leads they wanted to follow up on that didn’t involve me, so I stayed behind at Washington’s Headquarters. We needed someone close to protect the General. But if any of the Rittenhouse team were here, they were laying low.

Three days with no contact made me nervous. Flynn would tell me to listen to my instincts. That if something felt off, there was usually a reason. What I wouldn’t give to have Flynn by my side right now. The image of his smile as he handed me a cup of gritty coffee surfaced and I leaned my forehead against the cold glass.

The neighing of horses in the distance snapped me out of my reverie before it could go too far, but the specter of Flynn hovered around as I filled the kettle for coffee and lit the stove to begin breakfast. Martha would be down shortly and I wanted to have everything ready for her. She was a kind woman, determined and funny. A bit bossy, which made sense since she ran her husband’s household when she stayed with him at Valley Forge.

A ginger tomcat rubbed against my leg, begging for attention. “Good morning, Hamilton,” I said, reaching down to pet behind his ears.

“Don’t encourage him, Lucy.” Martha Washington entered the room and retrieved an apron hanging near the sink.

I smiled, standing. “Yes, Lady Washington.”

“I’ve told you to call me Martha. None of us can afford the luxuries of being ladies while we fight this war. For now, we shall all endeavor to persevere.” Her apron snapped open and she tied it around her waist. Something caught her eye outside the window as she reached for the basket of eggs. “Oh, Major General Lafayette and the Lieutenant Colonel are back. Lovely. We’ll need to set two extra seats for breakfast. Would you mind?”

“Not at all,” I said, crossing the room and opening the cabinet.

The first First Lady of the United States cracked an egg with an impeccable flick of her wrist. “You haven’t met them yet. Major General Lafayette is a scoundrel. A lovely man, but a scoundrel nonetheless.”

“And the Lieutenant Colonel?” I asked, placing plates around the long wooden table. The General liked to take meals with those closest to him so there was always enough room for anyone who might join.

She left the eggs to sizzle and started the batter for pancakes. “Lieutenant Colonel Flynn. He’s a quiet, loyal man, though there’s a touch of sadness about him I’ve never understood. An old friend of the Marquis and Alexander.” She paused in her stirring, gazing wistfully at the falling snow. “Oh, Alexander if only that boy would find a nice girl and settle down. He needs a good woman to take care of him.”

“Flynn?” I swallowed hard. It couldn’t be him. Martha had said an old friend of Lafayette and Hamilton. I slowed my breathing, refusing to panic. The name was only a coincidence. It wasn’t possible. Flynn was safe in Arizona.

And then the door opened.

I didn’t react. It had to be a joke. It couldn’t be him. Just a man who shared a name and a jawline.

“Lafayette! Lieutenant Colonel!” Martha Washington called to the men in the foyer. “Close that door quickly, Miss Preston’s only just warmed the room.”

Flynn’s head snapped up and the endless forest of his eyes caught mine and then there was absolutely no doubt, the universe had a sick sense of humor.

“Garcia?”

Martha heard something in my voice and stopped what she was doing. “Miss Preston? Are you unwell?” When I didn’t answer, she dusted her hands on her apron, crossing around the table to where I stood, frozen in horror. “Dear girl, you’re white as a sheet, do sit down.”

“Lucy?”

The broken question in his voice shattered me and I sank into the closest chair. He knew me. This wasn’t Arizona Flynn. The tense line of his shoulders, his fidgeting hands, they held our stories.

“Are the two of you acquainted?” Martha crouched in front of me.

If I could look at the woman mothering me right now, I’d see concern, but I can’t turn away, terrified to find Flynn a mirage, love replaced by a stranger.

“You can’t be here.” I should be shoving him out the door. Throwing myself into his arms. Running to collect Jiya and Rufus to change it.

I do none of these.

None of it made any sense. He shouldn’t be standing in front of me.We made sure he was safe.

But Garcia Flynn stood tall in front of me, staring like I was an oasis in a desert.

***

For a split second I didn’t care that she was supposed to be teaching at a liberal arts college in the middle of nowhere Ohio, I was too damned happy to see her.

Then I realized, they’d dragged her into it again. I should’ve known better. “Lucy?”

Rittenhouse would never leave her alone. Not with her undiluted bloodline.

“You can’t be here.”

Panic gripped me, a cold sweat breaking out under my now too tight clothing. I wanted to keep her safe. She was supposed to be safe.

I stared, I couldn’t help it. I’d been without her for three years, five months, and twenty-two very long days. I never thought I’d see her again and there she sat, seven feet ahead of me. Do I run to her or let her be? My heart skips, the missing beat to her melody.

“Well, Lieutenant Colonel, color me surprised. A lady?” Lafayette teased, brushing the snow off his overcoat. “Was this the business you were taking care of that kept you from us for a week? I almost had to go to that hideous dinner party alone. It’s lucky you caught up with me when you did. Who knows what…” His words trailed off as he closed the door and took in the scene.

Neither of us moved.

This Lucy knew me, I could see it written plain on her face, hiding grief and despair and disbelief. What happened in her timeline?

I wanted to take her in my arms, but I didn’t know what we were to each other. Friends? Enemies? _Lovers,_ the quietest hope whispered in my heart?

“Well this is awkward,” Lafayette declared to the silent room. “Come, Lady Washington, I believe these two need some privacy.”

Martha rose, uncertain. “It would not be proper.”

“Hang proper.” The Marquis crossed the room and slipped her hand into his crooked arm. “Trust me, these two need a few moments alone.”

“Still,” the older woman looked back at the younger. Not quite as young as I remembered. “Are you quite sure you’ll be alright alone?”

Lucy nodded and lifted an absent hand to wave her away. “I’ll be fine.”

Her voice was quiet. Too quiet. I needed to gather her into my arms, pressing her cheek to my chest. I needed to feel her body close to mine. 

Lafayette cast a concerned glance my way, but shuffled the General’s wife out of the room.

“Is this real?” Lucy asked me in that too small voice. Hope in her eyes, hands clutched tight in her lap. “Are you real?”

I moved then, kneeling before her, taking her hands in mine, looking up at the tears near to cresting the edge of her lashes. “I’m real. I’m here.”

She crumbled and I caught her. I was lifting her, gathering her against me as I settled us back into the chair. She cried into my shoulder and I knew it didn’t matter which timeline this Lucy came from, she was in my arms again. Right where she belonged.

“How are you here?” she asked, her forehead pressed to my chest, tears still streaking down her cheeks.

“How am I?” I gathered her face in my hands, willing her eyes to meet mine. When they did, something unlocked inside me. “You’re supposed to be teaching at Oberlin.”

Lucy startled out of my lap and knocked into the table behind her. “Oberlin? How do you know about Oberlin?”

“You told me.”

“No. I couldn’t have. I gave up the dream long ago.” She suddenly remembered the eggs on the stove and turned her back on him, muttering, “How long? How many lifetimes?”

“Lifetimes?” I could barely hear her words and followed in her wake, drawn to her, needing to understand. “Lucy, look at me. Please?” 

It felt like a lifetime before she turned and when she did, her shoulders stiffened, guilt flickering in her gaze. “You’re supposed to be in Arizona.”

“Arizona?” I asked, thrown by the seeming change of topic.

She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. “With Lorena and Iris.” I swear I’ve stopped breathing and she hurried to reassure me. “They’re fine. Safe. He’s not you. You’re…Which Flynn are you? I’m confused.”

It was then that I understood.

“How many times now?” She tried to look away, but I knew the truth. I’d lived the truth and chosen a different path. “How many times have I died, Lucy?”

She leaned into me, heavy, weighed down by the burden of her choices. “I don’t know. I lost count.”

Her confession broke me. “Oh, my love. I only lost you once.”

“Garcia.”

My name on her lips washed over me and I kissed her, her lips melding to mine as if they’d never forgotten our mingled breath. Memory brought to life like too many dreams tumbled together through a thousand timelines.

“You died in my arms,” I whispered between searching kisses. “I had to save you.”

She pulled me closer. “I couldn’t stop.” Pressed against the countertop, her fingers in my lapels. “I saved you. Every time. I didn’t know how to live without you.” I felt her deep inhale, the tension leaving her body. “I learned. I finally learned. We, the team, we made sure you were never dragged into all this. You’re happy.” Another inhale. “I made sure.”

She looked up at me, chin propped against my sternum. “Thank you.”

“I still don’t understand how you’re here if you aren’t Arizona Flynn. Which,” she blushed and I saw the first spark of happiness on her face, “you aren’t.”

“No, I’m not," I chuckled, reveling in the feel of her, safe in my arms. “I think we must’ve gotten our timelines crossed.” My laughter dwindled away as I remembered the bullet that ended her life. “I lost you in Philadelphia in 1824. We thought we were protecting Lafayette. I thought—“ the words choked me, but I pushed through it. “I was wrong.”

“But then, how is there another you?”

“I never went back,” I explained, gently, fearing to stoke that guilt I’d seen behind her eyes. “I fixed everything and left it all behind. I’ve been moving through history, keeping an eye on things. Mostly the American Revolution, but I’ve spent time in other periods, just in case.”

“History’s guardian,” she smiled and it warmed a dusty corner of my heart, blowing away years of cobwebs.

I bent down, kissing her again, just because I could. “It was all for you. I hoped you’d be proud of me. Even if the you that existed didn’t remember me.”

“As if I could ever forget you.”

I could see the pain in her eyes. The fact that she’d never escape Rittenhouse no matter how much either of us might wish it. I wanted to wipe the sadness away, to bring back that ephemeral smile. I brushed away a swoop of brunette hair and cradled her face. She leaned into my hand, eyes closing, brow furrowed, and I bent to kiss away the silent worry.

Martha Washington entered the room and her eyes widened at the potential scandal standing in her kitchen.“Oh gracious! Miss Preston!”

My hand slipped from her cheek and I wrapped my fingers around hers, the two of us turning as one. “I mean nothing improper, Lady Washington, Miss Preston is my betrothed.”

If Lucy was offended by my choice of assumed identities, she didn’t show it. Confusion rippled across Martha’s face, but she stopped looking at me like I was a lecher come to steal Lucy’s virtue. “You never mentioned a fiancé, Lieutenant Colonel.”

“I thought I’d lost her.” Not a lie. She’d been lost to him the moment he chose to change his own history to save the people he loved.

“That explains…” A hand fluttered to the matron’s chest. “Oh, you poor dears. And to be united now!” She clapped her hands and crossed to take their hands in hers. “George will want to celebrate. You must take the day for yourselves. Take the sleigh. The snow will let up soon, I’m sure of it. Now, shoo! I have preparations to make.”

***

I couldn’t let go of his hand, anchoring me in more than just the fury of the storm.

“What brought you here, Lucy?” he asked under the bare branches of the ancient oak tree in the side yard that offered a bit of shelter from the elements.

I didn’t care about the weather and right now I wasn’t even sure I cared about Rittenhouse’s constant plans for world domination, but I focused nonetheless. “The Mothership jumped, we followed it, but haven’t had any luck figuring out what Rittenhouse is doing here. Jiya and Rufus are here too, searching while I stayed at Headquarters to protect Washington. Have you seen Emma or Wyatt? Anyone that looks like a 21st century goon?”

His crinkly-eyed smile made an appearance. “No. I can’t say that I have and I’ve heard nothing that would have led to me thinking Rittenhouse was here.”

“Huh. I don’t know then. I need to go in search of Rufus and Jiya. We need to regroup. Maybe head back to the bunker and see if this was a feint. They’ve done it before. The jump alarm sounds, but by the time we arrive, Rittenhouse is already gone or they were never there to begin with. Mason’s been looking into it, trying to see if there’s a glitch in the Matrix as Rufus put it. Hopefully he’ll have more information soon.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” I heard the sadness underlying his words. Our time together was fleeting. I was trying not to think about it. “I’ll help you search. I know the men, I’ve been with the General since Brandywine so I’m known to the troops, they will answer me without question. You can stay at least another day, right?”

Hope. It layered everything. I had Flynn back, which meant I could lose him again. He’d be gone from me for good. I should distance myself now, before I got attached to him. If the universe taught me anything through the timelines, it’s that everyone was expendable. Everyone on the chopping block, ready to be sacrificed at the slightest whim of fate.

“Of course.” How would I leave him again? He couldn’t come with me for fear of losing Lorena and Iris and I couldn’t stay with him out of fear of the repercussions from my parents.

“Stop.” Flynn pulled me tight against him, arms banding around my body as if he could keep us from being separated again. “You’re here now. Leave tomorrow to the future, it’ll be here soon enough.” He tugged me towards the barn. “Come with me.”

“I should…” I turned back to the house thinking I really should go after Rufus and Jiya, but unable to walk away from him. I made my choice and let him lead me forward. “Where are you taking me?”

He waited for me to catch up and then we followed a path through the knee-high snow. “I intend to take Lady Washington up on the use of the sleigh.”

***

“I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve done something so normal.” Lucy tucked her knees up under her, covered by the blue and green plaid wool blanket. She wore a long, thick burgundy cloak that wrapped around her as she slid her arm through mine, laying her head on my shoulder.

I spurred the horses into motion. “People don’t often take sleigh rides in the middle of snowstorms in the future?”

“No.” She tilted her face into the wind. “People mostly huddle together in small communities attempting to avoid notice by the Purity Squads.”

Ice ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold temperature. “Purity Squads?”

“Bloodlines.” She pressed her forehead into my shoulder. “If you can’t trace your family back…”

She trailed off and I could feel her exhaustion. “You don’t have to explain, I understand.”

I hated that I had to let her go to fight alone. _Not alone._ She had Rufus and Jiya. She mentioned Mason too. She wasn’t alone. I just couldn’t stand next to her, holding her hand, offering her my strength. The sword to her warrior maiden. I smiled at the thought of Lucy at the head of a massive army, sword raised high to defend anyone who would stand against her. She’d burn down anyone who got in her way. I know, I’d been at the suffering end of her wrath more times than I cared to remember.

“You still have Agent Christopher?” I asked, needing to know who she surrounded herself with, to imagine her misfit army.

She nodded against my arm. “And Amy too. I lost Amy in your timeline…”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, knowing it was inadequate. “I never meant for that to happen.”

I felt her shrug. “It wasn’t your fault. Well, it was, but you fixed it.”

The horses neighed, plodding on without a care for the weather. They were used to the temperamental Pennsylvania winter. We skirted the barracks following the line of the Schuykill River.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying you were my fiancé. It seemed the easiest way to save your reputation.”

A snowflake landed on her nose and I watched as it melted. “I’ve only known her for a couple days, but I imagine Lady Washington would have had us married by sundown if you hadn’t.”

 _Would that be so bad_ , I wanted to ask her. But I’d had three plus years of missing her, of imagining what might have been, never believing I would see her again. I had given up my love for her happiness. And now that she was sitting next to me, alive and safe, I wanted forever with her.

“You said I died in Philadelphia?” she asked, breaking me out of my daydream.

I didn’t want to think back on that day, but I never really stopped if I was being honest. Everything I did, I did to redeem myself. I couldn’t protect her. Protect Lorena and Iris. Even if I’d saved them, I still owed a debt to the universe. “In 1824. We were there for Lafayette’s parade through the city. You should’ve seen it, Lucy.”

“I did,” she interrupted. “The grand archways that lined the parade route were amazing.”

“You were there?” I half turned in the seat and she swiveled to face me, resting her chin on her knees.

She got a faraway look in her eyes. “We were too happy. Everything seemed too easy. I thought it was just because you and I were finally making a go of it.” She closed her eyes against the memory. “I was wrong. Rittenhouse wanted me and they knew if they took you out, I’d do anything to bring you back. I left you with a doctor and went after the shooter, but I lost him.”

She laid her cheek on top of her hands and watched the glinting river. I let the silence stretch between us. I wondered how long it had been since she’d told anyone this story and I was reminded again at how alone she must’ve been. I wanted to figure out what it meant that we’d both lost the other in the same historical event. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.

“By the time I returned to Independence Hall, I couldn’t find you anywhere. I thought for sure they’d taken you. When I got back to the bunker, Denise handed me an autopsy photo. I never asked how she got it, it shouldn’t have existed, but I was too grief-stricken and angry to think anything through. I played right into their hands.”

“You didn’t have the luxury I did to walk away.”

“Still…” She kept her eyes on the rippling water. “You gave us all up. Saved us and walked away so that we had a chance at a happy life.”

“Doesn’t seem like it worked too well.”

“There’s no escape for me, my fate’s tied to Rittenhouse.” I lifted an arm and she snuggled into my side. “Lorena and Iris are safe with you in Arizona. It might not have been the world we wanted for them, but they’re alive. Happy.”

Lucy adjusted, sharing her blanket with me while we enjoyed a simple sleigh ride through the snow, I was luckier than I had any right to be. “It’s enough.”

I let the horses slow to a halt, the snow indeed letting up as Lady Washington had predicted, just sitting next to the woman I thought I’d lost. I knew I’d have to let her go again, back to the future, to the present day fight. The team would figure out what Rittenhouse wanted with Washington and then she would disappear again into the ether.

***

I never wanted to leave this moment. This peace. I wished I could abandon the fight and rest with this man at my side.

“I have to go back,” I said, more command to myself than confession to Flynn.

He twined our gloved fingers under the blanket. “I wish you could stay.”

“I like to think there’s a timeline where we were allowed to love each other. Where we grow old and crotchety and yell at the neighbor kids to get off the lawn.”

“You would never.”

Flynn laughed and I memorized the sound of it. For later, when the darkness swarmed around me and time slipped away. “Oh. I would. I’ve been practicing.”

“Let me hear it.”

I indulged him, because, why not? “Hey! You, ruffians! I didn’t plant those azaleas for you to trample them! SHOO! Go on now. Get!”

“Azaleas, eh?” He laughed so loudly he startled the horses, who tossed their heads back as if to scold him. “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”

“When did you become a fan of Shakespeare? _Worse than a soap opera_ is what you called Romeo and Juliet, if I remember correctly.”

He winked down at her. “I don’t recall that, sorry. Must’ve happened in a different timeline.”

Leaning against his shoulder, the snow a symphony around us, I knew the feel of happiness. Though tainted with leaving, I would always carry this moment with him. “To be fair, it really is a terrible play.”

“I’ve had plenty of time for reading and the General enjoys the classics. Books are hard to come by so it was either read Shakespeare or pick up Don Quixote again.”

“Dreaming of being a knight-errant? Rescuing damsels in distress?” I loved that he continued to surprise me after, well I’m not sure how many years we’d known each other, but our connection felt eternal.

“Can you imagine trying to find armor to fit me?”

“Given enough time…” I drifted off with the daydream of Flynn as a Knight of the Round Table. Sitting atop a gigantic white horse with a flowing mane.

“Alas,” he said with a knowing smile as he picked up the reins, urging the horses into motion.

“History’s Guardian…” Instinct tugged at the thought. He had been traveling through time.

“Lucy?” He asked in question, glancing down at me.

“You said you checked in on other moments in history.” He nodded and I continued trying to tease out thought. “Lafayette said you’d been gone for a week before this. When did you return?”

“Monday the 29th.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “You were at the Gunfight at the OK Corral?”

“Yes,” he said with an abundance of surprise. “How did you know that?”

“We’ve been following _you_. Every time we jumped to the past looking for Rittenhouse and found no one, we were actually chasing you.” How many times had their lives crossed without knowing? “I was so busy looking for Emma. I never saw you.”

He switched the reins to one hand so he could lay his arm over my shoulders and pull me close. “I stayed in the shadows. An observer. I didn’t want to change anything if I could help it.”

I reveled in the reassuring warmth of his body. “We assumed we had a glitch. We only followed the jumps that coincided with historical events of some significance. We only came here because Rittenhouse has been quiet as of late. There’d been quite a few trips to the American Revolution, but we ignored them since they were just regular days. No great battles or missions with Benedict Arnold. Just an average Sunday. It didn’t seem important.”

“How could you have known there was a second Mothership jaunting around through time?”

“But we could’ve investigated further. We were tired and stretched thin. Wyatt’s betrayal—” I choked on the words. They’d gotten close in this timeline, I’d let him in, forgetting the other two timelines where he’d turned on them to save Jessica. I didn’t blame him, but it still hurt.

“When I knew Wyatt, he was a good man. Kind of a dick, but a good man. What happened?”

Valley Forge came into view and I wanted the sleigh ride to last forever. “Rittenhouse changed history to bring back his wife.”

Flynn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Sounds familiar.”

I looked up at him. “I promise, they’re as safe as they can be. Once we stop Rittenhouse once and for all, they’ll have a normal life again. Everyone will. We won’t fail.”

“I’ll be waiting. When the final battle comes, you come back here to get me, and I’ll be right by your side again. Where I belong. I’ll stay with Washington and Lafayette. You’ll always know how to find me.”

“I will, I promise.” I turned and tilted my lips to meet his. We kissed as the horses led us forward and I memorized the feel of his mouth against mine wishing I could freeze time around us. We parted, reluctant to let the world intrude, knowing our time together slipped away with every shared breath. He felt like home and I didn’t know how I was going to walk away from him. “We will finish this together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, Martha Washington really did hang with her husband at Valley Forge and I couldn't resist having her and Lucy become friends of a sort. Oh, and she really did name her cat Hamilton after Alexander Hamilton. What a scalawag!
> 
> https://www.valleyforge.org/revolution/the-people/martha-washington/  
> https://www.mountvernon.org/library/digitalhistory/digital-encyclopedia/article/valley-forge/?gclid=CjwKCAjwoc_8BRAcEiwAzJevtVYv8Yz_J0ow2JvJ0W3Cw7e9RRehcQxUp71zeLkoEDGTPsLeoNy2QhoCQo8QAvD_BwE


	16. In the Eye of the Hurricane

~*~  
 _In the Eye of the Hurricane_

_April 23, 1778  
Valley Forge, PA_

Flynn sat astride the chocolate colored warhorse looking out across the Schuykill River. The gentle blue sky stretched above the forest, painted with lazy drifts of clouds, the world quiet in every direction save for the babbling of the river. Springtime bloomed in the Pennsylvania countryside with pale green buds and the promise of freedom. The winter at Valley Forge had been a long, hard slog through the mud and muck, but with the changing of the season, he felt he could breathe again.

He came here often, gazing at the light glinting off the ripples and thought of Lucy, the snow swirling around her head, the hood of her cloak fallen to her shoulders. They hadn’t had much time together that day back in January and he missed her, wondering how long it would be before she appeared in his life again.

He was willing to wait forever.

Knowing Lorena and Iris were safe, even with a different version of himself, granted him peace. Knowing Lucy was coming back to him, gave him hope. Even if she left him again in the end, at least he would see her one last time. That would be enough.

Penelope snorted and tossed her mane in agitation. Garcia slid a hand down the length of her neck, his voice a calming murmur as he scanned the horizon for whatever had spooked the horse. A cold wind blew off the river and a group of birds took flight from the trees behind him. When the beating of their wings dissipated, a familiar whooshing sound filled the absence. He turned Penelope and followed the beacon, racing through the trees. He slowed her to a stop in front of the familiar time machine, with a few more bullet holes and several new dents and scratches, but familiar just the same.

The door slid open. “I’m gonna assume you’re the one and only Garcia Flynn.” Jiya stepped out, a broad grin on her face. “Betcha never thought you’d see me again.”

“No, I did not,” he said, dismounting. “Though I don’t think we’ve officially met in your timeline.”

“We have not,” she replied and extended her hand, “but I’ve heard the stories.”

He took her hand and deadpanned, “They’re all true.”

Connor Mason jumped out behind her, followed by a younger blond woman who shared Lucy’s smile. Even though he’d only seen a tiny picture of her, he’d know Amy anywhere. She pushed past Jiya and stopped, propping her hands on her hips and examining him. He squirmed under her attention until she finally spoke.

“You erased me.”

“I…um…I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he explained, guilt and embarrassment staining his cheeks. “It was an accident.”

She blinked up at him, her face blank. “You really think that’s an acceptable excuse?”

“No.”

“I’ve heard the stories as well, you know. You don’t make the best first impression.” She folded her arms over her chest and waited.

Flynn swallowed hard, far more unnerved by this tiny slip of a woman than he should be. She was Lucy’s best friend and he had wronged her, albeit unintentionally. If she never forgave him, he’d regret it until he died. “I _am_ sorry. I thought I fixed it before I came to 1776.”

Amy stayed silent and like Lucy, he felt like she could see right through him to everything he’d done, the sins he’d been trying to atone.

When he couldn’t stand the scrutiny anymore, he asked, quieter than he intended, “Is she okay?” Rufus had joined the group in the copse of trees, Lucy had not. What had happened to keep her away? She had sworn to return to him. So where was she? It was his turn to study Amy’s face, searching for any clue to Lucy’s condition. “Tell me she isn’t—”

He knew he must look desperate as he stared at her, but he didn’t care. To lose her again after she’d only just come back into his life, he wasn’t sure how he would react. But from the acidic terror churning inside him right now, he doubted it would be anything good. Nothing that would help him redeem himself.

“Lucy’s alive.”

The tightness in his jaw relaxed a fraction. “Thank you.”

“You’re a kitten who thinks it’s a tiger.” Lucy’s smile appeared on Amy’s face and he felt the grip around his heart loosen.

He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Let that be our little secret. I have a reputation to uphold.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, Kitten, it’s obvious to anyone who looks at you when you’re thinking about my sister.”

“Where is she?” He needed to know she was safe. Alive didn’t mean unharmed.

Mason answered, coming forward, “She stayed behind to wrap things up in the bunker.”

“Wrap things up?” he asked, even as he could breathe again with the knowledge.

“There’s a lot to explain.” Guilt skittered behind the other man’s eyes. “We came to borrow the Mothership.”

“Of course, it’s yours, but why?”

The scientist glanced away. “Like I said, there’s a lot to explain.”

Jiya and Rufus stepped forward and the group adjusted to include them as she answered, “We broke time.”

“Excuse me?” Flynn looked back to Mason. “Is that even possible?”

The older man let out a heavy sigh. “It shouldn’t be. Time usually irons out the wrinkles we create by traveling through history, fixing the paradoxes that might otherwise break something important. It’s why Rittenhouse always failed when they came at history with an axe.”

Flynn considered the new information. It explained a lot of things. “My version of the team had a mission where Rufus warned Kennedy not to go to Dallas. He still died, but in Austin instead.”

“I never,” Rufus exclaimed, affronted. “And you’re wrong anyway. JFK died in Dallas.”

Mason waved a hand between the other two men. “That’s it exactly. Time is flexible, but will return to its original operating system, so to speak, when given the chance. Usually this isn’t an issue.”

“None of this explains how you broke time.” Flynn tried to rein in his impatience, but he was a man prone to action and to act, he needed information.

Thankfully, Jiya obliged him. “Rittenhouse figured all of this out before us. We were so focused on stopping them, we never considered why they kept failing. Then the changes to the timeline started and we were constantly playing catch-up.”

Mason picked up the thread. “They discovered that small alterations to the timeline could yield better results and gave them more control of the outcomes. Lucy told you about the false-positive jumps we recorded?”

He nodded. “She thought it was the trips I took in the Mothership.”

“Those were a few of them, yes, but the rest were Rittenhouse. By changing small moments in history, they were able to significantly alter the landscape of the future, but it also destabilized time. We added to it every time we followed and with Lucy’s changes to save all of us…”

“Destabilized time?” Flynn scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to hide his impatience.

Mason noticed his irritated confusion and rushed to explain. “Think of an old wire hanger and the changes as kinks in the metal. It’s malleable and still serviceable as a hanger. You can even bend out the kinks for awhile. Until you can’t anymore and it snaps.”

The scientist had his undivided attention. “What happens then?”

The man gave him a very unscientific shrug. “We don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Flynn resisted the urge to throttle him.

“We don’t know,” Mason bit out, frustrated that he didn’t have better answers. “We could all blink out of existence when the timeline reverted to the original. Different periods in history could start bleeding through into the furthest point in the timeline. Shakespeare could disappear while he’s writing Hamlet. Nero could blink out of Rome and show up fiddling on the doorstep of the White House. I just don’t know. I can read the numbers and tell you what’s wrong, but not how it will play out in reality. Trust me, I wish I could.”

Something lurked in his eyes, but Flynn didn’t have time to draw it out of the other man. “So what you’re telling me is that at any moment all of this could change and we’d have no memory of any of it. Great.”

“We have a plan,” Jiya stopped him from stealing their time machine and heading straight back to Lucy. “We’ll tell you on the way to the Mothership. As you can imagine, time is of the essence.”

***

The moment Lucy stepped out of the Mothership in his old leather jacket, Flynn thought his heart would burst.

“Hi,” she said, standing on the rung, staring at him as if it had been years for her. Maybe it had.

“Hi.” He walked to meet her, reaching up his hands to lift her to the ground.

He should’ve kissed her right then and there, but he hesitated, scared to assume her feelings.

Denise jumped out behind and broke the tension. “The one and only Garcia Flynn, I presume.”

“At your service,” he bowed with a flourish of his hand that he must’ve picked up from Lafayette. “It’s good to see you again.”

She held out her hand. “It’s nice to finally meet the man who caused so much trouble.”

“Me? Trouble?” He shook her extended hand. “I’ve never been anything of the such.”

She gave him a half smile and laughed. “Whatever you tell yourself to sleep at night.”

“Hey!” He said, sweeping out an arm to lead them back to Washington’s Headquarters. “We don’t even know each other, you can’t say things like that.”

Denise walked at his left side as they made their way down the side of the mountain heading towards the horses he had borrowed for the day. They couldn’t leave the Mothership out in the open, not with the war going on. Jiya and Rufus followed behind, looking for all the world like nothing more than a happy couple out for a hike. Amy and Mason waited for them back at the fort, getting to know the Founding Fathers.

Flynn had waited through the morning for the others to return from the present, the team wanted one last day together before they faced the final mission. Jiya and Rufus used the Mothership to ferry the equipment to run the time machine if the mission failed, and he helped them hide it in a cave up in the Appalachians. God willing and the creek don’t rise, they’d never need it and it could be buried in an explosion. But until they had confirmation that their Hail Mary worked, Connor Mason and his invention would stay safely tucked away in 1778.

When they left again to pick up Denise and Lucy, he felt every second like an eternity. After today, Denise would go back to her family, protecting the Lifeboat and the bunker until the end came. If the end came. Where Lucy went after would be her choice, though Flynn knew what he would suggest.

“I most certainly can,” the former agent replied, “I’ve heard the—”

“Stories,” he finished for her, looking to Lucy who walked silently on his other side. “That’s becoming a common theme around here.”

She beamed up at him. “I mean, they’re some good stories. And once I’d confessed the rest of my mixed-up timelines, they all wanted to know about you. How could I resist?”

He wanted to slip his hand into hers, but didn’t. “Well, I suppose I can understand that. I mean, if you’re going to repeatedly change history to save a man, you should probably explain why.”

“Otherwise a girl might just seem crazy.” She blushed and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Dare he believe she still loved him? Wanted him?

“You are crazy,” Jiya added her two cents worth.

Rufus shot her a look. “You know we aren’t supposed to talk about that.”

“Why? It’s obvious. No reason to pretend she hasn’t gone halfway around the bend and back.” She glanced back at her old friend. “Lucy doesn’t take offense. She’d tell you the same herself. Wouldn’t you?”

The beautiful woman at her side shrugged and smiled at him again. He’d never tire of seeing it. “I mean, they aren’t wrong.”

“I’ll never believe that.” He returned her smile and for a second they were the only two in the world. Four horses came into view and the group mounted. He held a hand out to Lucy. “I’m sorry, Washington couldn’t spare any more than these. You’ll have to ride with me, if that’s okay. I can walk.”

She slipped her smaller hand into his. “No, absolutely not.”

Flynn stepped into the stirrup, settling into the saddle and reaching down to pull her up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and as he nudged the horse into motion, he’d give anything to keep her right by his side forever.

***

Candlelight suffused the space with warmth as Garcia Flynn glanced over the collection of small tables that dotted the room, his old friends mingling with his new.

A last supper of sorts.

The Marquis de Lafayette chatted with Denise while Alexander Hamilton flirted with Jiya. Rufus and John Laurens huddled in conversation around the fireplace while Mason charmed Martha Washington despite his British accent. Lucy leaned forward, arguing with George Washington who sat across from her. The General seemed entranced with whatever she was saying and Flynn couldn’t blame him one bit. 

Amy slid into the chair next to him, another bottle of wine in hand. He held out his glass and she obliged, smiling as she said, “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”

He leaned back in his chair and kept the mirth from his expression at this tiny woman’s threat. “We’ve had no discussion about what will happen after this mission.”

“I’m just saying. I’m resourceful and dangerous.” She refilled her own glass and lifted it to his. “I think I like you, Garcia Flynn. Don’t make me change my mind.”

They clinked their glasses together and sipped. Lucy noticed that her sister had joined him and excused herself from Washington’s table. “You looked like you might need a rescue.”

He resisted the urge to tell her how beautiful she looked in the simple creme and burgundy gown. Instead, he winked at Amy and replied, “Not at all. Your sister is the most delightful company.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Lucy reached for the wine as she took the chair on his other side so that he was surrounded by Preston women. “I’ll join you on the off chance that she misbehaves.”

Amy leaned forward as if to examine her sister. “Me? _You_ worry about me? I’m not the one who’s half crazy from multiple timelines. I’m thinking that with Flynn’s help, I might finally be able to keep you out of trouble. You do seem a bit more stable than you were back in the bunker. Maybe he’ll be a better influence on you than I originally thought.”

Flynn wanted to take Lucy’s hand in his, but there hadn’t been time for any discussions between them. Her feelings might’ve changed in their time apart and he didn’t want to push her. “Doubtful. She was always a better influence on me than I was on her.”

“That I have no problem with believing,” Lafayette teased as he took the last chair at the table. “Has Garcia told you how he kept us all out of shackles when we first met?” 

The evening progressed with Lafayette and Lucy trading stories while Hamilton refilled everyone’s glasses whenever he given half a chance. George and Martha retired first, just after the clock chimed ten o’clock, but the rest stayed together, laughing long into the night. John Laurens retired next, followed by Hamilton and a barely conscious Lafayette, until the team was left alone, tired, but unwilling to sleep away their last few hours as the family they’d become.

“This will be our last night together.” Denise added another candle to the tables they’d pushed together to fit everyone. “If all goes according to plan, I will not remember any of you after tomorrow. I want to say now that it’s been my incredible honor and privilege to lead you. You have been some of the bravest and most honorable people I’ve had the pleasure to know and I wish you all the happiness.” She raised her glass and the team followed suit. “May we meet again.”

***

Lucy and Flynn sat side by side on top of the picnic table, neither speaking for a long moment as the sky lightened from dark to light blue, a starburst of yellow as the sun crept over the horizon.

“We’re barely more than strangers,” she said, unsure, a jumble of hope and contradictions. This wasn’t her Flynn. None of them had been since he died that first time.

“You don’t feel like a stranger.” He leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees.

She smiled as she twisted her fingers together. “No?”

“No,” he replied, reaching over to still her fidgeting, slipping his hand into hers. “I feel like you’ve just always been a part of my life. Even when you were missing. I thought about you often and I’d find myself wondering what you’d think about my choices.”

“Like what?” The warmth of his hand in hers steadied her, made it easier to breathe.

“What?” he asked, his thumb gracing over her palm.

She half turned, watching the shifting of night and day play over his face. “What choices?”

Flynn fell into her deep brown eyes, content to watch the pale sun light her features. “I came to the American Revolution because I wanted to fight for a cause I thought you’d see as righteous. A cause worth fighting for. I wondered what you’d think of me hanging out with Washington and Hamilton, helping to shape the country you would live in one day. A country worthy of you.”

Garcia Flynn had let her go, allowing her find her happiness at the expense of his own. Had left everything and created an entirely new life in the past without even the smallest of conveniences. Lucy’d been selfish, bringing him back time after time.

At least this last time, she’d made it right. As right as it could be in a world run by Rittenhouse.

She didn’t know what to say so she reached into the pocket of her skirt. “I have something for you.”

Lucy handed him a plain white envelope and he opened it, pulling out a color photograph of Iris on an old swing-set, Lorena holding the chains above her daughter’s head. Both wear wide smiles, their happiness evident. When she took the photo, Lucy’d been careful to ensure the scene looked as close to normal as possible. Flynn couldn’t see the rusted walls around the encampment or the old army tents that leaked when it rained too hard. But he didn’t need to, he only needed to see his happy family.

“Thank you.” He ran a thumb over the surface of the picture.

“You’re welcome.” Then she said the words she knew she should, setting aside her own desires. “We could take you back, you know. We haven’t—”

“No.” He stood and moved to stand next to the ancient oak tree.

She followed, wanting him to know she fully supported his choice. “They’re your family.”

“They are and I will remember the love we shared in the years we had together.” He tucked the photo away and reached for her hand again. “But I don’t want to forget you. This insane life we’ve lived, separate and together.”

“We don’t know if this will work. I may have to go back to the bunker and continue the mission.” Lucy held herself apart. If she went to him, she’d never want to leave.

His stood there, hand still outstretched, patient as ever. “Even if memories are all I have, I can’t let them go.” 

“I can’t walk away. This is my family’s fault.” She took a small step towards him, finally taking his hand. “I have to fix it.”

“I’ll wait.” He pulled her close, needing to hold her. “Lucy, I never thought I’d see you again. If I am not what you want, I’ll let you go and continue on here, fighting the good fight. But I want a life with you. Wherever you want. Whenever you want. And if that’s what you want as well…” He threaded his fingers through her hair, reveling in the feel of her arms wrapped around him. He repeated, “I’ll wait.”

She closed her eyes, clinging to this fleeting happiness. “What if I wanted to settle in the Jurassic era?”

“I’d prefer not to be crushed by a T-Rex, but for you, I’d risk it.”

She felt his slight chuckle against her cheek. She countered, “We could stay here. In this life you’ve made.”

“There’s a war on.” His arms tightened as he imagined fighting beside her.

“I think I might know something about that.” She looked up, hope waging a battle with the need to temper the swirling emotions inside her. “I’d like to stay here.”

He bent down and brushed a light kiss across her lips, whispering, “I’d like that too.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the optimism she heard behind his words. For once, she felt like they had a real chance and she wanted it for them. A life free of Rittenhouse and time travel and saving history. They could just live as Flynn and Lucy. The wind whistled through the branches of the tree above as they stood together. Each unwilling to let go of the other just yet.

When they finally separated, she said, “It’s time.”

They turned as one and walked silently through the woods to the stairs of the Mothership where Jiya and Rufus were already waiting.


	17. A Beat Without a Melody

~*~  
 _A Beat Without a Melody_

 _October 14, 1966  
_ _Liverpool, England_

Rufus and Jiya walked hand in hand down the sunny English street, dried yellow leaves blowing around their feet. A car horn blared out as the stoplight at the corner turned from red to green. They crossed to the next block, their destination, the bench in front of a small park, just up on the left.

“Are you sure about this?” Jiya slowed them to a stop beside a brick and cement stoop. “Lucy and Flynn said they’d give us two hours in case we changed our minds. It’s not too late.”

Rufus hung his head and leaned back against the stairs, tucking his fists into his hoodie. “Am I sure? No. But I made a promise.”

She tugged up the zipper of his hoodie and slipped her hands into his pockets. “Let’s go back. There’s gotta be another way.”

“No. We have to do this. You know we do.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

She wrapped her arms around him trying to lend him some of her strength. “I know.” 

He sighed as they let go of each other. “At least Rittenhouse will just be your normal evil corporation and we won’t have to worry about running around time saving history.”

Threading her fingers through his, she pulled Rufus into motion and they continued down the sidewalk. “No more worrying about contracting dysentery or the Spanish Flu.”

“No more almost dying from a gunshot wound in a Chinatown saloon.” His heart pounded in his chest and he took a deep steadying breath. With Jiya by his side, he could face this last test.

At the end of the block, a small boy sat on a painted green metal bench, feet swinging back and forth, his faded brown book bag at his side. His mother sat next to him, her arm over his shoulder. Jiya squeezed Rufus’ hand before crossing to the other side of the street while he moved to join the pair on the bench.

“Mind if I sit down?” The little boy looked up, tears hovering, ready to splash down his cheeks, and Rufus rushed to sit. “Hey buddy, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, mister,” he mumbled.

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Rufus turned sideways and hunched down a little. “You want to talk about it?”

His mother brushed away his tears. “Don’t mind my son, sir. We’re just having a bit of a moment here.”

“It’s okay. What’s your name?”

“Connor.”

“Hey Connor, my name’s Rufus.” He held out a hand and waited. The boy hesitated, but then reached out. “You want to tell me what’s going on?” Mason’s mother looked at him askance, but relaxed when Rufus smiled at her. “I know what it’s like to be a little boy. Maybe I can help.”

He shook his head fiercely back and forth.

“I’m Jeanie, my son’s a little bit shy,” she explained. “I’m not quite sure what’s going on. He’s not usually so emotional.”

Mason picked up his mother’s hand and placed his smaller palm against hers. Rufus cocked his head to the side and asked, “Whatcha doing there?”

“My hands are too small.”

Rufus crouched down a little more, trying to get closer to eye level with the young version of Mason. “What do you mean? You’re just a little boy.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He curled his tiny fingers into a fist. “I’m the man of the house. I’m supposed to take care of her.”

“Of who?” Rufus asked, even though he knew. There was a reason the older Mason had sent them here. The boy he’d been said nothing, but as he pulled his knees to his chest, his gaze darted to his mother. Rufus gentled his voice, “Your mom?”

He bit his lip and nodded. “She works too hard.”

Jeanie gasped. “Oh Connor, bunny, no. I’m your mama. I’m the one who takes care of you.”

Tears broke free then. “But I can help!”

“You do help,” his mother cradled him as he squirmed against her side, his young emotions all jumbled up inside him. “You make your bed and help with the dishes.”

Mason finally settled, hiccuping through his tears, “It’s not enough.”

“Of course, it’s enough,” his mother reassured him, but he refused to hear her, tucking his knees up to his chin, curling into himself.

In this small boy, he could see the man who flew back from Seoul to Cambridge to support Rufus when he thought for sure he’d have to drop out of MIT. Mason deserved as much goodness as this world could offer instead of bearing the guilt for his creation of time travel. Helping to give his mentor a new life was the least he could do.

“Listen, helping your mom with the chores is one of the most important things you can do.” Rufus glanced across the street and looked to the door of the music store then back at Connor. “But if you could do anything to help her, what would you do?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled against his knees.

“Connor?” his mother asked. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

Rufus saw him peak through his lashes at the music store. “Nothin’”

“Like I said, doesn’t look like nothing,” Rufus remarked, trying to draw the answer out of him.

Mason huffed out. “What do you know, you’re American!”

“I know a lot of things. Want me to prove it?” The boy pinned him with a skeptical look, but nodded.

Rufus pointed to the music store across the street. In the window, a man reached for a golden blond Martin guitar. Connor’s eyes widened and tears formed again. Before he could break into a sob, the door opened, a jingle of the bell barely audible over the sound of the city.

“I know that your favorite band is the Beatles.” Jiya exited with a black guitar case and crossed to them.

Excitement burst onto Mason’s face, tears forgotten. “They’re from here! I saw John in the pub one night!”

“Yup,” Rufus nodded. “John’s your favorite, right?”

“How did you know that?”

Jiya joined them, propping the guitar on the bench between Rufus and Mason, whispering, “He’s magic.”

Jeanie rose, glancing around, nervous. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but…”

“Please don’t worry. I know it’s hard to believe, but we only want to give your son a gift,” Jiya explained. “My husband and I have a charitable foundation that helps talented children who may not have the funds they need in life. Connor came to our attention through his school and we’d like to provide him with the tools he needs. This guitar is only the beginning.”

Mason jumped off the bench and backed away from the instrument right into his mother’s legs. She placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “We couldn’t accept—it’s too much.”

“Jeanie,” Rufus stood and lifted the guitar onto the bench, flipping open the latches of the case, “your son has a bright future ahead of him. We at the Riya Foundation recognize his promise and would consider this an investment.”

Mason reached a small hand out to stroke across the guitar strings. “This is for me?”

Jiya smiled and knelt down. “Yes. If you want it. You want to help your mom, right? Well, what if you could help her by making music like John?”

“Could I buy her a new vacuum cleaner?” he asked, already wrapping his fingers around the neck of the instrument.

Rufus laughed. “You could buy her a hundred vacuum cleaners, Mason.”

Jeanie raised an eyebrow. “What do you want in return?”

“Just pay it forward,” Jiya replied as she stood and slipped her hand into the purse she carried, withdrawing a manilla envelope. “When Connor grows up, he helps another child who might not otherwise have the chance.”

When she passed the woman the envelope, Rufus explained. “That contains everything you need to get you started. A bank account in your name and a trust fund in Connor’s. We will keep a portfolio of stocks and bonds for any future expenses and there is a business card inside with our address should you need anything. We will be around.”

Connor Mason’s mother stared at the envelope in her hands in disbelief. “I can’t—”

Jiya pressed the woman’s hands to her chest. “Yes. You can. We want to help. It’s what we do. I’d like us to be friends. Stop by the office next week and we’ll discuss how you’d like to proceed with his education.”

Jeanie Mason burst into tears and dragged Jiya into a tight hug. “You have no idea what this means to us. I’ll never be able to repay this kindness.”

“Not today, but one day there will be a little boy just like Connor who needs your help.” She released the other woman. “We are just giving him the start he deserves.”

In truth, they weren’t giving Connor Mason anything he hadn’t already earned on his own. The scientist had given them access to his accounts and businesses over the years and they’d dismantled Mason Industries brick by brick, transferring the funds to the younger version of himself. Giving him the chance to start anew. To become the man he’d yearned to be sitting outside that hole in the wall music store staring at the Martin D-45 with its hand inlaid pearl.

A guitar so beautiful young Mason knew his mother could never afford it. So instead, he turned to using his hands to fix things. 

Jiya and Rufus would stay around as long as necessary to give him every opportunity to pursue his dreams. When they returned to the Revolution, they’d be closer in age to Lucy and Flynn, but it seemed a small sacrifice to repay the man who had given so much to both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We never found out where Connor Mason was from, but I like to think he was from Liverpool. (Blame my love of soccer and the fact that I cheer for Liverpool, but that's a whole other story.) It's a poorer working class town that gave us the Beatles and punk rock. What's not to love?


	18. Helpless

~*~  
 _Helpless_

_April 24, 1778  
Valley Forge, PA_

The Mothership settled from its jump, almost purring to sleep compared to the Lifeboat.

Lucy reached for the keyboard. “I’ll just set the coordinates for the rendezvous point.”

Flynn laid his hand across hers and stopped the movement of her fingers. “Wait.”

“We have to go back for Jiya and Rufus,” she said, confused.

“We will. I just…” He twined their fingers, searching for the right words. “Once we bring them back, we’ll know if it worked or not.” He looked down, shy, afraid to confess this deepest need to her. “I would like to wake up with you just once so if you leave again I’ll remember what it felt like.”

She lifted their joined hands so their palms slid together and stood. “Yes.”

“It makes no difference when we leave,” he continued until her answer registered. “Yes?”

She gave a little tug to his hand. “Yes.”

“We don’t have to—” He jumped to his feet and banged his head on the console above.

“Are you okay?” Lucy asked, smothering a laugh before pulling him down to check for injury. Finding none, she kissed the top of his head. “Take me home, Garcia Flynn.”

He led her through the woods in the twilight until they arrived in a clearing. A small creek curved along the right edge of the field bordering the surrounding forest. A small house with a wide front porch sat at the center, bathed in the rising moon. Two rocking chairs sat on the porch on either side of a round wooden table in front of large window that looked out on the water. On the left side of the house she saw a pile of wood next to the frame of an expansion.

Flynn moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “It’s not finished yet.”

“It’s beautiful,” she replied, leaning into him.

He bent down to kiss her temple, whispering, “I built it for you.”

“You built it?” She whirled in his arms to look up at him, incredulous, though she really shouldn’t be surprised. Flynn would accomplish anything he set his mind to.

Looking down at the woman he’d loved since she faced him defiant in front of the burning Hindenburg, he’d never felt luckier. He’d made her happy and he couldn’t ask any more than that out of life.

“I had help, but yes. Hanging out in the past will teach you a thing or two.”

Without thinking too much about it, he bent and lifted Lucy into his arms, striding across the field.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

He pressed his lips to hers briefly. “I honestly have no idea, but I have no intention of stopping.”

Lucy felt very romance novel, carried in the arms of the man she’d loved and lost and loved again. The feminist in her wanted to insist she could walk, but she told that part of her to hush and wondered instead if he intended to ravish her like some 18th century Highlander. Knowing Flynn, he’d stammer and stumble over his words until she took matters into her own hands. Her belly fluttered at the thought and she looped her arms around his neck, leaning up to kiss the line of his jaw.

So, of course, he decided to tell her about the garden. “I’ve marked off the area behind the house. There’ll be tomatoes and beans, potatoes…”

Her lips pressed light, lazy kisses just above the collar of his shirt. “What about herbs? Basil? Rosemary?”

“Ummm…” Her fingers drifted across the nape of his neck, making it impossible to think.

“I like the length,” she said, letting the strands of his dark hair slide through her fingers.

Her nails traced just under his collar to find the top button of his shirt. “Corn!”

“Corn?” she asked, unbuttoning the top two and placing feathering kisses in the hollow of his throat.

His head bobbed up and down, thoughts awhirl. “It might take a few years to get a good crop.”

“Flynn?”

“Yes?”

Lucy looked up at him, her words breathy, “I don’t care about the garden.”

She continued her assault on his senses as he climbed the steps to the house, unbuttoning another button and running her hands under the fabric. She leaned back and gazed up at him, lips parted and he bent down, taking her bottom lip in his, tongue tracing the silken line of her mouth. He graced down her jaw and her head fell back, allowing him to pepper languid kisses down her neck.

Releasing her legs, she slid down the length of his body. “Lucy…”

“Garcia…” she tempted, continuing to unbutton his shirt, running her hands over his shoulders. “If tonight is the only night we have together, I don’t want to waste a second of it. I’ve lost you too many times.”

His lips captured hers and there was no doubt, no hesitation as he backed her up against the door and she fumbled with the handle. She pushed his shirt over his shoulders as they stepped through into the darkened living room, the moon lighting the space just enough that they could navigate their way to the couch. Lucy’s legs hit the edge and she stumbled backwards until seated and Flynn loomed over her, chest bare, looking for all the world like he was ready to devour her. Her hands drifted down the planes of his stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of his trousers. Her fingers inched slowly to the button at the center and she leaned forward, kissing the light dusting of hair there.

Flynn reached and wound his fingers through her hair, torn between ravishing her right then and there and begging her to wrap her lips around the straining length of him. Instead, he let her lead the way, content to allow her to learn the lines of his body, learning the feel of her lips against his bare skin. He shivered as she freed the button, her eyes darting up to his as she ran her fingers over the fabric, a barricade to the decadent pleasure awaiting them.

She hesitated and he held his breath, patient and desperate for her at the same. “Have we ever…I mean, in your timeline? Did we?”

He brushed her hair back from her face, the uncertainty there plain for him to see. “We did not.” His hands slipped to her shoulders, pulling her up and wrapping her in his arms. “We’d only just begun when I lost you. We thought we had all the time in the world.”

Her cheek pressed against his bare chest and she just breathed in the earthy scent of him, pine and woodsmoke and crisp night air. Just being in his embrace calmed her. “I’m afraid, Flynn.”

“We don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.” He clutched her a little tighter. “I never thought I’d see you again, I’m willing to wait as long as you need. I really just want to fall asleep with you in my arms.”

“No.” He felt her head shake in disagreement. “That’s not what I mean. I’m afraid I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone again. I’ve dreamt of you too many times only to wake shivering alone in the dark.”

He released her and moved his hands to cup her face. “I’m not going anywhere, Lucy. No matter what happens tonight, I will wake up holding you in the morning. I’m going to make you the first in a long line of coffees I intend to share with you. Every day for the rest of our lives. I’m going to marry you and love you and never let you go, if that’s what you want.”

Her tentative smile swelled his heart to twice its size. “You want to marry me? What if—”

“No what ifs.” He gathered her hands in his and nudged the coffee table out of the way before kneeling down in front of her. “Lucy, I love you. I loved you never believing I’d see you again. I never stopped since the moment we started down this road together. I love you and I intend to keep right on loving you until we’re both grey haired with a gaggle of grandchildren around us.” She looked down at him, her eyes wide, tears glinting in the moonlight. “Marry me, Lucy Preston and I will make sure you never wake up alone again.”

“Garcia,” she breathed out as he reached to tug free a frayed thread from the couch, looping it around her finger, patiently waiting for her answer. “I can’t guarantee…”

“I know,” he said, still kneeling, willing to kneel for an eternity. “It won’t change how much I love you.”

She crouched down, bringing their faces even. “Yes.”

“Yes?” he asked, disbelieving.

Her smile overtook her tears. “Yes, Garcia Flynn. I love you more than I thought possible. There’s nothing I want more in this world than to be your wife and live by your side until death do us part.”

“Not too soon, though,” he replied with no small amount of snark as he tied the thread around her finger. “I have an entire list of things I’d like to do with you.”

She lowered herself into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Is that so?”

“It is.”

He slipped his hands behind her to loosen the ties of her corset, bringing his lips to the swells of her breasts, kissing one, then the other. Pulling down the thick straps to bare her shoulders, his tongue tracing a line as shivers broke out on her skin. She exhaled heavily, moaning his name, her head dropping back. He took advantage of the movement to kiss up her neck, licking the outside shell of her ear before kissing the hollow behind.

She adjusted her body so that her legs braced on either side of his. She felt him harden beneath the thick layers of her long skirt, wishing she could feel the naked length of his body pressed to hers. Running her hands over his bare shoulders, down his chest, reaching again for the buttons of his trousers. They began to move together, long dormant desire surfacing to take control.

He tore the laces from her corset, she pushed his trousers over his hips. They moved and their clothes fell away to form a nest on the hardwood floor of the living room. Their kisses, desperate. Their skin craving touch, fire in the wake of sensation. Years of longing forgotten as they crashed together, the moonlight the only witness. They made love long into the night until the sun crept over the horizon and he carried her to bed, falling asleep entwined, content, and happy.

Lucy Preston woke in the morning, Flynn snoring softly beside her as she marveled in the very real warmth of his body next to hers, no longer alone.


	19. There is Silence

_~*~  
_ _There is Silence_

 _Dec_ _ember 18, 1974_  
 _New York City  
_ _Dance Theatre of Harlem_

Flynn, Lucy, Rufus, and Jiya sat in the front row of the small theater gazing up at the mirrored black stage. The lush red velvet curtains parted to reveal a stage full of equipment, a single spotlight illuminating a lone piano. The room fell silent in anticipation, as if even the brick walls held their breath. The lights went up and a line of horn players filed out, their brass instruments glinting into the otherwise darkened room. The rest of the band followed as they launched into the first song and the last member of the band joined them, making his way to the piano, a high hat tapping out a quick beat. Laying his fingers over the black and white ivory keys, the sunglassed man began to sing, his voice clear and strong, echoing through the theater.

_Music is a world within itself…_

Rufus leaned forward onto his knees, obviously excited, the streaks of grey beginning at his temples catching the light. “I can’t wait for you guys to see how far he’s come.”

_With a language we all understand…_

“Do you think it’s enough?” Lucy asked in a hushed tone despite the fact that no one would hear them over the music that filled the hall.

_With an equal opportunity…_

Jiya cut her a look. “It’s enough.”

_For all to sing, dance, and clap their hands._

The audience jumped to their feet, the lyrics the only invitation they needed to get up out of their seats. It seemed easier to dance than to stay seated and even Flynn got into the music with his awkward shuffling movements. Lucy laughed at the man at her side, big smile all the wider for the time they’d spent together before joining the now-married couple for Thanksgiving in 1976. The plan had been that they would check in when Mason turned sixteen and see how far the teenager had progressed. If he needed more time, Lucy would drop Flynn off back in 1778 and edge forward a year in time until she knew the future was safe.

They had no idea when they landed that a few short weeks later they’d be lucky enough to witness the first concert where Stevie Wonder played his new album _Songs in the Key of Life._ They simply missed their friends and decided to stay on, spending the holidays together. Rufus and Jiya had moved Riya Foundation to New York City to be near Connor as he studied at Juilliard. He’d burst into the office earlier that afternoon, breathless and barely understandable as he told them he’d been playing in the subway when Stevie Wonder wandered by and listened to him play for an hour before inviting the young man to join him on stage that night.

Rufus left his chair a few songs later, knowing that Mason would be freaking out backstage and could probably use a friend. His mother was there with him, but Rufus had become a kind of mentor to him, repaying Connor for doing the same for him growing up. The rest of the team stayed right where they were, dancing their hearts out, lighter than any of them had felt since history grabbed control of their lives.

A hush fell over the crowd when Stevie Wonder interrupted the first set to invite an unknown to accompany him on the next song. The rest of the band watched as a gangly Connor Mason made his way to stand behind a microphone placed at the side of piano, his golden blond guitar clutched tight in his hands. The piano tinkled to life as the band sang in the background.

The first few notes that echoed from the guitar revealed his nervousness, but Stevie encouraged him to continue. “You’ve got this, Connor. Pretend your sitting on the concrete of the subway as trains roar by. Nothing matters but the music.”

The next lines of sound echoed clearly through the hall and when he joined Stevie in singing, his voice harmonized and swelled to life around the audience. Lucy looked around to see more than a few people wiping tears away. The guitar and piano dueled and danced, twisting to a crescendo that brought the guests to their feet, awed by the heart the two musicians created out of the music, allowing them to experience this moment that would never come again. Everyone in the crowd knew, without knowing, that they were watching something special.

The next song began and Connor loosened up, jamming with the horn section, freed now to enjoy the opportunity the universe had given him. Rufus rejoined the group and they all saw the happiness writ large on the boy’s face. He’d never become a world famous scientist, never create a time machine that allowed Rittenhouse to wreak havoc across time. Maybe he’d never meet Robert Johnson, but he’d never live to regret his choices in life. He’d provided for his mother and the world would be better for it.

Later that night, when they all sat around Jeanie’s kitchen table and Jiya and Rufus said their goodbyes to the boy to return to the man he’d been, there were only happy tears. They’d done what they set out to do, saving the world and giving Connor Mason an opportunity to be the man he’d always wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This performance actually happened on December 18, 1976, but if I'd have allowed that, I couldn't have had Flynn in the scene since he was born in 1975. I hope you can forgive this slight change to the timeline. I couldn't find much information on the show itself, but since Song in the Key of Life was released that year, I chose to use a couple songs from that album, Sir Duke and Love's in Need of Love Today.


	20. The Crack in the Bell

_~*~  
_ _The Crack in the Bell_

_September 28, 1824_   
_Philadelphia, PA_

Garcia and Lucy Preston-Flynn walked down the cobblestone streets under the massive archways that lined the parade route. Lafayette had offered to let them ride in the carriage with him, but they decided to walk instead. The brilliant blue sky stretched out above them, not a cloud in sight.

“Are you worried?” He looked down at his wife and tucked a strand of long grey hair behind her ear.

Her smile still thrilled him after all these years together. “I’m not. I’ve lived a good long life with you by my side. I’ve watched our children grow up and marry and have children of their own.”

“Can you still believe our daughter married Rufus and Jiya’s son?” Flynn lifted their joined hands and kissed her fingers.

“Always the overprotective father,” she laughed as the sun streamed down over them. “Who else was she gonna marry?”

“There was that farmer down the road. What was his name?” Flynn curled around her to protect her from the jostling crowd.

She rolled her eyes. “You can’t even remember his name, but you wanted Alice to marry the farmer down the road?”she would’ve stayed a little closer to home,” her husband grumbled.

Lucy threaded an arm around his waist. “You thought that any child of ours would stay close to home?”

“I did hope Gabriel, at least, would have a bit more sense than our daughter.” Lucy raised an eyebrow. “You know what I mean. She ran off to New York City with your sister, but our son left us and moved to another continent.”

“Blame Lafayette. He talked far too much about the revolution in France. I think Gabriel was always a little jealous that we fought side by side with the Founding Fathers to help build this nation.”

A marching band passed by them, the snare drum beating out a syncopated rhythm. “And who’s fault is that? Who’s the one who instilled in him a love of history?” Flynn asked.

Lucy stopped and looked up at him aghast. “What else was I supposed to do? You aren’t suggesting I let our children grow up ignorant?”

“No, of course not,” he chuckled. “But you think setting them both at the feet of George Washington and Alexander Hamilton might’ve had a bit of a influence on them?”

They approached the raised platform just as Lafayette stepped out of the horse-drawn carriage and mounted the stairs to the stage.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lucy huffed out as she scanned the stands set up across from Independence Hall. Lafayette tried to wave them up, but they stayed off to the side, keeping an eye on the crowd. Neither of them really believed Rittenhouse somehow found a way to create a time machine themselves, but this would be the moment of truth.

Jiya and Rufus sidled up next to them, startling Flynn out of his perusal of the people surrounding them.

“We didn’t see any sign of Rittenhouse,” Jiya assured them.

“I know none of us could go back to the present without overwriting our doubles there, but I would’ve felt better about seeing the future for myself.” Lucy tried not to fidget. She believed they’d won once and for all, but a tiny part of her had been scarred by everything her family had done through the years. She was too old to go back to the fight and didn’t relish recruiting a new time team. No one should suffer like they had. She’d barely kept her sanity and only living a long life with Garcia Flynn had saved her life.

Flynn squeezed her hand. “It’ll be fine.”

“I know,” she replied, pulling him down, their kiss familiar and comforting. “Besides, we wouldn’t want all the dynamite in our barn to go to waste.”

“I am quite looking forward to finally burying our past under a thousand tons of rubble,” Flynn said, a sparkle of excitement in his eyes.

Rufus stood behind Jiya, wrapping his arms around her waist. “That does sound like the most fun we’ve had in years.”

“Boys,” Jiya and Lucy said in unison, laughing to relieve the tension of the moment.

The group fell silent and waited, breath held, through Lafayette’s speech, scanning for a young man in a grey suit. None appeared. The long black barrel of a sniper rifle never cut through the air to slice into either Lucy or Flynn. Neither fell to the ground, bleeding out in the arms of the person they loved. The Liberty Bell tolled out above them, reverberating through Philadelphia, until the brittle metal cracked, never to toll again.

Lucy raised her eyes to gaze at the love of her life. “We’re free.” 


	21. History Has Its Eyes on You

_~*~  
_ _History Has Its Eyes on You_

_September 29, 1824_

The Mothership watched as Garcia Flynn lined the chamber of the cave with dynamite. She’d known this moment was coming from the beginning. Even before he’d stolen her and gone gallivanting through history. She’d recorded every iteration of the timeline.

Call it fate. Destiny. Serendipity. The Mothership knew what the team had to take on faith. That no matter which timeline, this found family would always meet. The circumstances might change, but their separate lives were woven together through the stars. With or without the invention of time travel, Rufus and Jiya would find their way to each other. If not at Mason Industries, then at a gaming convention in Boston in 2016. Denise and Michelle had never been in danger. They fell in love when they crashed into each other outside a small, dingy coffeeshop in San Francisco.

Without the threat of Rittenhouse, those who died got the chance to live. Wyatt and Jess separated in 2012, but reunited after he went into rehab and started seeing a counselor for his PTSD. Iris grew up to be almost as tall as her father and met Denise and Michelle’s son Mark when they both joined Rufus and Jiya’s program for gifted students where she decided to study zoology because of her love of koalas. She brought her parents to meet his the night Rufus got them all tickets to see his mentor, Connor Mason, live at the Fillmore with his new singer, Lucy Preston. Michelle invited one of her agents, Wyatt, and his wife to tag along thinking the soldier could use a night out.

The mountain around the Mothership began to rumble as she remembered all of them at their happiest, gathered around in the Green Room after the show. She would go to her rest, buried deep beneath the rubble, with this memory. Lucy glowing in her husband Noah’s arms, free at last to pursue her lifelong dream. Amy at her side, her baby sister always there to support her. The Christophers and the Flynns getting to know each other, not realizing they’d be spending the holidays together for decades to come, the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

The ground gave way and the rocks rained down over the Mothership. She looked one last time at the two couples standing at the base of the mountain bracketing her Connor Mason. The man who gave her life. He stood sentinel, stooped with age and leaning on a cane, his hair gone fully grey, but she saw relief in his eyes as she whispered goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there ya go folks. In case you were curious, the idea of time cracking isn't scientifically proven or even a real theory. But I read an article recently where a scientist proved mathematically that time wouldn't allow paradoxes. That it would adjust the timeline so that whatever the moment you were trying to change would still happen, just differently than it did the first time around. I.e. Kennedy dying in Austin instead of Dallas. Meaning, you couldn't kill Hitler even if you wanted to really really bad. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story and my obsession with the American Revolution and Hamilton. Also: VOTE!
> 
> https://www.sciencealert.com/a-physicist-has-come-up-with-the-maths-to-make-time-travel-plausible


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